Space Rulers
by Krocken the Hybrid
Summary: (A Collaborative work) Welcome to the Galaxy, a feudal empire filled with various threats and dangers, and political schemes. Here are the tales of those who live in the darkness. Rated for violence, language and debauchery.
1. The Cold

A/N: This story is a crossover work between me and Master-of-the-Boot, who you can find on Deviantart. We hope you enjoy this dark work of fiction. And it should be mentioned we don't own any of the cast.

 **The Cold**

This world was cold. Not as cold as the icy void of space, but this cold offered special suffering. Winds could blow the heat out of the most well insulted travelers; that was if blizzards or native predators didn't do the job first.

It was mid day during the summer equinox on Planet ST4K-8b when the traveller came trudging down the old trapper's trail. What the traveler wanted was a matter of mystery, but what they were chasing the vast beam of light shooting up to the heavens; the Transport Beam to Space Station Winterfell-1.

The traveller looked through snow goggles and marveled at the Space Station blinking like a star on a bright day.

Some would question why he would do something like this...traveling across this frozen wasteland. Some would find it mad.

But in truth, it was all for practice. Need to get stronger in such a harsh universe, full of the worse kinds of aliens...aliens that made the wildlife on this planet look cuddly by comparison...and the creatures of this planet could rip apart an entire platoon of soldiers in a matter of moments.

There were a lot of threats here on this rock. Savage monsters of all types; naturally evolved and designed leftovers from bio-wars that just never died. There were people here too. Spice prospectors who combed the glacial valleys for the fabled blue space, the so-called Raven spice.

Following the spice prospectors there were various bandits and mercenaries looking to take a share of the most precious form of spice; the one that made interstellar travel possible.

The traveler felt up the fine laser pistols at their belt and the assortment of knives. Bandits and brigands weren't always well armed, but they'd had some luck.

And sometime the bandits and pirates were species that didn't need weapons to kill you. He remembered a story about a reckless platoon who came across a group of unarmed Skakdi bandits and engaged them, thinking it would be easily victory.

The Skakdi won.

But no time to dwell on such horrific memories. Time to report to Lord Stark.

The traveler's boots struck self-heating roadway. They were already in the small town that served as a service hub for the station in the sky. A man took down the polar goggles and lifted up the heated balaclava on his face.

Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn took a sip from a self-heating whiskey flask on his belt, his one less than lethal weapon for his travels. Reuben winced at the bad liquor and savored the burn. The former lawman turned and eyed the huge, frozen knight standing vigil over the small town. Polar Knight paid no attention to Rooster; he knew better than to keep Lord Eddard "Ned" Stark Waiting.

The two Stark men, while not actually family members themselves, were nevertheless loyal soilders for Ned and the rest of the group. Rooster sighed as he made his way to the main teleporter.

The bald man watched Rooster and his companion. Somewhat insanely, he'd chosen not to wear any kind of head covering in this frigid weather. He looked more like a mid level stock trader compared to the towering man in power armor.

Gregor Clegane loomed over booth Rooster and his companion. Rooster knew him well and had fought the Mountain that Rides many times. What he didn't know was the bald man with a bar code on the back of his head. "It's alright boys," he took another pull of Whiskey, "We're here. We'll take you to Lord Stark."

Gregor said nothing as usual, simply nodded. Rooster, of course, remained on guard. Gregor was known for being psychotically violent, and would kill without any sort of warning.

Rooster reached a console and began typing some buttons...and all were developed in light, and then beamed right upward towards the stars.

The three arrived in a large, white room, one of Winterfell's VIP teleportation rooms. Every man was now dressed for a warm, temperate climate. Rooster welcomed his familiar Western Duster while Polar Knight remained much the same.

The bald man adjusted his red tie, "I look forward to Lord Stark's assessment. There's been unusual activity around the Grox Border and the merchant class whom King K. Rool depends on is getting nervous."

Rooster grimaced. King K. Rool, a Kremling and the leader of the whole galaxy. To public, he appeared as a hopeless oaf...and yet, some spoke of what happens when no one of the other house was looking.

But there was no time to ruminate over that: A door slid open, and in came two people. Eddard 'Ned' Stark himself, looking tall and grim, yet honorable as usual. With him was his wife, Catelyn Stark, a woman that possessed a strong spirit.

The first thing Ned noticed was when the bald man glared, Gregor bowed. The bald man himself bowed shortly afterwards. But he was under no illusion what kind of man it would take to get a psychopath like Clegane to bow.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Agent 47," Ned said with arms crossed, now acknowledging the bow. "What brings the King's chief killer to my home?"

"Grox business." Was the curt reply.

Ned sighed, knowing that this was bad new. Grox were a race of cybernetic life forms who had weak physical abilities, but keen intelligence and xenophobic hatred for anyone not them.

"What about them?" Ned asked.

"Well, they seem to be get a little edgy at times, and this the main merchant vessels to nervous to do their jobs properly." 47 went on.

"We understand the Grox political structure is undergoing a unification," said Lady Catelyn. "That their fleet and ground armies are remarming and reorganizing."

"The intelligence was correct about you," was Agent 47's even reply.

"And our vassals, House Lee are front row to a potential Grox invasion, followed shortly by Winterfell itself." the Lady finished.

"Would you believe, my lady, that Winterfell might not be the first target of the Grox?" enquired the Hitman.

Catelyn raised an eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

47 sat back in his chair. "We are not quite sure, but we believe they are actually mobilizing for defense, not assault." He grimaced. "Likely another hostile race is coming."

"Have there been any mysterious disappearances among asteroid miners?" the Hitman asked, evading the question further. "Surely you had spies at the spice refinery over Tattoine?"

"I thought the King's official stance was that the refinery disaster was an unfortunate accident?" Ned Inquired, unwilling to let his guard down around the King's personal killer.

"Expensive, but the King did manage to recoup his losses." Agent 47 explained, "However it was a controlled self destruct that destroyed the refinery, and a Xenomorph infestation that threatened to spill through the refinery's teleport system."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Rooster interjected as he pulled out a fresh rolled cigar from his jacket. "Since you seem to know so much about it?"

Ned did not silence his man, as Rooster had served both him and his father faithfully for years.

Agent 47 didn't seem to mind Rooster's directness either and repaid it in turn. "As of now there is a Tyranid splinter fleet rampaging through the Magellan cluster's at the edge of the galaxy; it ultimate destination either Grox Space or Stark space."

Polar Knight grunted, the stoic being alarmed by the news.

Ned felt himself tense. Tyranids were among the most dangerous aliens out there. Some would actually compare them more to a virus than anything else. Invading, absorbing everything, and moving on to the next world. They could be beaten back...but it seemed it would be an eternal threat.

But before he could ruminant further, Anivia, the cyrophoenix, came flying in. "My Lord and Lady," she began. "Windrunner is approaching our station."

"Give the Lady Windrunner landing permission," Catelyn commanded the frost elemental. "See to it that the lady is given hospitality before anything else."

"The Lady is one of our staunchest bannermen," Ned supplied as Agent 47 glared. "If as you say there is a Tyranid Splinter fleet threatening the galaxy, she and her man Duke Nukem fought nearly for thirty years against the beasts."

"As you distinguished yourself in the destruction of Hive Fleet Gorgon," 47 casually supplied.

Ned simply nodded, to humble to boast. He then let his thoughts drift to Slyvanas. A undead elf, Slyvanas was a extremely powerful leader and warrior, and most of the worlds under her command were Death Worlds, to breed the finest of the undead to help counter threats the galaxy as a whole.

She was also rather blunt and cold at times, but that was just her. One could ignore it in favor of her incredible skills, especially in marksmanship.

"Lady Windrunner did most of the ground work," Ned explained humbly. "In a fight with Tyranids, her special forces from half a dozen Death Worlds can be trusted to take a Hive Tyrant or Norn Queen."

"But your standing armies have the numbers, the equipment and the discipline to be the bulwark upon which the swarm is held," said 47. "The size of your army has more than doubled since the time of your father Rickon. To say nothing of the sway the Starks have in Segmentum Aurora."

"I love a good bug hunt," Rooster crowed with bravado, trying to get under the bald man's skin.

47 just ignored him. It would soon be time to discuss important matters about the future of the Empire.

He did allow himself to think a bit, though, while they waited. Death Worlds...K. Rool owned quite a few himself, his favorite being Planet 4546B, an oceanic world with only a few scatted islands as true land. It was a beautiful world...and very deadly, used to train troops in aquatic situation. High General Pridak often oversaw the training himself, and he was a harsh being, with only the toughest serving under him.

But soon, he had to stop thinking too much, as Windrunner soon arrived.

The Death Worlds were what they had in common. Before she was undead, Sylvannas hailed from the deadly jungles of Quel'Thalas. Duke Nukem was now the Knight administrator of the radioactive Death World New Vegas. 47 himself was raised on half a dozen death worlds from Catachan to Char. He was more comfortable in a setting where everyone wanted to kill him.

"Winter has come, and so has this bad boy!" crowed a boorish, muscular man.

"It is good to see you again, Eddard," said Sylvanas, ignoring her loud servant. "It gladdens my heart to see you and Catelyn once more."

Catelyn nodded alongside Ned, never quite sure if Windrunner was being sincere or simply facetious as times. But now was not the moment to think about that. It was time to chat.

As they all sat down together, Sylvanas spoke up. "I have heard of the encroaching threats myself. Currently I am looking into the Death World Ark for potential recruits to combat anything that gets in our way."

Ark...a varied world full of dangerous prehistoric based creatures. Perfect training grounds.

Ned nodded. "Hopefully it will be enough."

"And I do believe that Ark produces warriors with technological prowess as well as raw ferocity," added 47.

Slyvanas nodded as hot cider and wine was brought out by servants. She abstained, her servant Duke showed no such thing. "Yes, people who go into Ark are given a specimen implant. Those who truly thrive are those who can craft, tame beasts, research technology and work in teams to defeat native monsters and other teams."

"To beat the Tyranids, you need to be smart and fearless," Ned supplied. "You can't match their mindlessness or numbers; so men have to try other methods."

Slyvanas nodded. "Indeed, though I have heard rumors the Tyranids are not quite as mindless as they seem. Rumors is that...something guides them. Something intangible that connects them all..."

A moment of silence passed from this uncomfortable idea...before 47 spoke up. "While on the subject of hostile aliens, have any of you also had trouble with the Yautja on your Death Worlds?"

Ned glowered at the mention of that species, Catelyn held his hand and caressed the cross shaped scar on his hand. "The cursed beasts infest anywhere with conflict and heat. They've even established a small Colony on Arrakis, one of our major spice producers."

"Kindly enough they don't attack the spice miners," Sylvannas purred, "They just attack military instillations and hostile tribes. They seek the strongest prey and most dangerous monsters. I've been trying to broker a truce with them and establish a formalized system of combat and warfare in places like Ark and New Vegas."

"And how has that been going?" Catelyn asked.

"Quite slowly, but we're making progress." Windrunner admitted. "Better than we did with those Salmonids."

Duke scoffed at the mention of the toxic beasts. While not THE most dangerous alien species, they were still a high-level threat, with their aggressive behavior and toxicity...and tendency to swarm.

"Give the word and I'll make barbecue out of those Salmonid bastards," Duke ground out, remembering what they'd done to his hair.

Sylvanas chuckled, "That's what I love about you Duke, your total honesty and killing intent."

"While King K. Rool has utter faith in your ground armies, he is most concerned with the Stark Space Navy," 47 interrupted. "From what I see, the Death worlds give you the strongest special forces in the galaxy, but how will you fare in ship to ship combat with Tyranid Bio-ships or Yatuja reaver ships?"

Ned was silent for a moment. He had a point there. Those ships were extremely deadly to fight, not helped by the fact the Tyranid ships were actually modified Tyranids themselves.

He had to think on this one for a moment. Perhaps it was time to look more into spaceship-based combat, to take the enemy head on before they landed and put others at risk.

"The Starks have a substantial fleet," Ned supplied to the King's main assassin. "Most of the fleet protects the merchant navy that keeps flow of trade goods and spice running to the core worlds."

"A number of mercenary outfits and paramilitary corporations have been nationalized or had their controlling stakes bought by House Stark," Catelyn interjected. "We have some of the finest fighter pilots in the galaxy pledging themselves to our banners.

"Good, good." 47 nodded, pleased. "Now there is something else I wish to discuss: Rumors sightings of the renegade scientist Rick Sanchez."

Windrunner scoffed. "Rick. You speak of the fool who aided in the creation of the 'Space Station Silicon Valley'?"

47 nodded grimly, still knowing said station was still active...and populated by dangerous and intelligent robotic animals.

"Sure, I know Rick," scoffed Duke as he chomped on a cigar. "He's anywhere right now where you can find liquor and bikini babes. I hear Hyrule, the Mushroom Kingdom and Illium are full of babes this time of year."

"We don't keep contact with Rick Sanchez," Ned said firmly, "The man is treacherous and unpredictable." Perhaps, but he had shown the Starks how to cultivate spice in the wild without damaging future stockpiles. More dangerously, he'd shown Ned the true origins of the spice; some critical information that could not fall into the King's hands.

He was a highly intelligent man, but also selfish, jerkish, and drunk for the most part. The only one he seemed to trust was his grandson, Morty. Rumor had it Morty was with Rick now as well.

"The King hopes that you will assist him in taking in this wanted criminal to justice," 47 coolly admitted. "His achilles heel is his grandson, Rick. I hope to meet them soon enough."

"House Stark always stands loyally with the crown," Catelyn "Where King K. Rool leads, Houst Stark follows and so do the Houses of the Northern Segmentum."

"Good to know." 47 nodded as Gregor still remained silent. "Thankfully, not all news is bad for today. The Dreemurr's are still greatly in the aid in the spread of food, thanks to their control over the Death World 'Gourmet World'."

Ned and Catelyn nodded with smiled. The Dreemur's were good people, always are sure everyone was fed...and it was much appreciated as well, considering the huge risk one took when going to the Gourmet World. It was full of dangerous animals, with many growing to impossible sizes, and the environment itself was varied and deadly.

Catelyn's tone became less guarded and friendlier. "The Dreemurr have been critical in the development of agriculture across the segmentum. They've shown us how to grow food on worlds we didn't think we could, and shown asteroid and comet miners how to build proper hydroponic farms."

"The Dreemurr are almost family to us at this point," Ned explained, "their leader Asgore is a personal friend and shield brother to me." The Lord of Winterfell eyed the bald assassin, "Though I'm sure you're worried about the production of Red Spice on the death world Fenris."

This did cause a reaction from Gregor, a subtle shift in the giant man's posture. Quietly, he punched a button on his power armor, feeling an injection of red spice directly into his veins. His eyes temporarily glowed red before returning to their normal steel blue. Red spice helped. It gave him focus, made him strong; it took away the chronic pain and more. It was what the King's Space Marines needed to elevate them above even the best-disciplined humans.

And those marines were NOT to be causally messed with, hand picked from the toughest of individuals, trained on the most hellish of Death Worlds, and genetically and physically altered by Relius Clover, the leading scientist under K. Rool.

The Space Marines were the Crown's true trump card over the other noble houses. Immensely expensive to train and maintain, King K. Rool had turned many heads when he began to streamline the command structure and trim the General ranks of the Space Marines.

The first Space marines were formed thousands of years ago during the event known as the Long Night, a winter that lasted a generation and of which only a few written records survived. Warriors were given radical gene therapy and organ transplants to make them gods of war; and red spice was what allowed the warriors to survive their transformation and live for decades, or sometimes centuries.

Space Marines would be critical against Tyranids, and equally critical against the Noble Houses if King K. Rool so decided.

As for what came in the Long Night...few were fully certain, but the term 'Others' came up often.

But for now, it was known the Marines were successful in ensuring victory in those years, and now were used to maintain order.

Still, some people were a bit nervous about the Royal Court, as many of people serving K. Rool were said to be...dangerous.

Relius himself, for example, was a genius, with extensive knowledge of both magic and science. However, this was paired with a severe lack of empathy.

The Society of the far future was feudal in nature. The King called on his lords, his lords called on their bannermen, and the bannermen called upon peasant armies and mercenaries to make up the numbers. It wasn't just like whistling for a dog to come.

And for all his public image as a buffoon, K. Rool was a power hungry man. He was a man interested in the galaxy pre-Long night, before the "Others" had decimated nearly 90 percent of the galaxy's population before being driven into the darkness of space. What he wanted was a return to a state run army, a galaxy with one leader, one party and no feudal houses to divide loyalties.

With psychopaths and assassins serving him, not to mention the dreaded Space Marines, K. Rool had the resources to bring back the days of a powerful, centralized Nation State.

The Starks were the other, relying on public good will, honor and martial valour; they were the only other power in the galaxy with the resources to build a more decentralized, more just nation state, as were others, like House Dreemur and Nui.

But now was not the time to ruminate on how the system worked: Right now they had focus on he immediate threats.

Ned looked back up. "We shall do whatever we can to combat the threats." He assured.

47 cocked his head, like a vampire who needed to be invited into a home. "And that was what we needed to hear, Lord Stark. the Imperial house is facing troubling internal strife on top of alien threats; King K. Rool personally needs your help and extends to your the position of Hand of the King."

"What?" Catelyn demanded.

"What!" said Rooster with even less tact. "Join that fucking nest of vipers?"

Ned blinked, ignoring the outburst. "That...I...I am not worthy."

47 waved his hands. "Eh, he thinks you are. Besides, you can use this to help the people of the various world, make them feel more secure with a Stark in charge."

Sylvanas leaned in, smilling but emitting no warmth. "That is a great honour, however I question the Wisdom of one of the galaxy's most capable military leaders moving away from the front lines at a time of potential war."

"And a bigger percentage of the overall spice market," 47 added. "Your House would profit greatly. All you would have to do is say yes and greenlight the construction of shipyards in the Hoth System and the Ark world. It would kill many birds with one stone."

Ned was silent for a long time. True, this would greatly benefit his family and people...but it would also mean LEAVING his family, which would be distressing. Plus this was his home...

"Allow me time to think on this great honour," said Ned to the King's main hitman. "this is a great deal to take in and I must confer with my advisors." It wasn't a coincidence that this golden opportunity came out of the mouth of one of the galaxy's deadliest assassins.

47 nodded, "Take a month, if you prefer. I have much business in the sector and that should give you enough time to make preparations."

It was then that the red warning lights and klaxxons started going off in the Station's corridors.

"UNKNOWN LIFEFORM IN LOADING BAY 13-B!" blared the mechanical computer voice.

All were alert in an instant, concern and/or anger on their faces. Something was in the station, and could be a huge threat if left unchecked.

The Lord of Winterfell stood up in his chair, turning to his men. "Reuben, take Polar Knight and Gelu to the loading bay. Whatever it is, keep it contained there."

Ned grabbed the power sword at his belt, "Get the station sensors back on line," he ordered to Anivia, the frost elemental.

Sylvanas looked to her grinning champion, Duke, "Duke, be a lamb and assist Lord Stark in killing anything that needs to be killed."

"Looks like to kick ass and chew bubblegum...and I'm all outta bubblegum!" Duke grinned.

"Whatever." Came the dry reply.

Catelyn herself mad her way to the personal quarters, always ready to make sure her children were safe from harm. Truly a mother to be admired.

Soon, all were rushing to their duties.

Ned turned to 47, "Please stay safe. My people will handle this." He turned and left before the assassin could get another word in.

As the Lord of Winterfell stormed towards his private command center, he tapped into a private communicator. "Rick, I need to know exactly what's been happening."

The drunken reply came over the encrypted line "uh Ned, it's kinda, it's kinda fucked, Ned." Rick Sanchez belched over the line

As it so turned out, the Starks have actually been giving shelter to Rick and Morty. True, the two remained neutral, but were happy for the help...even if Rick didn't show it.

Morty's panicked voice could be heard next. "Oh, jeez! Kill it! KILL IT KILL IT!"

Ned signed, "Rick, at some point I'm going to lose my patience and my mind."

"Ned, urp, it isn't my fault!" Rick protested, "one minute I was fixing the toilet in Robs room when my teleporter goes off and there's a predalien in the room!"

"A predalien?" Ned ground his teeth. A hybrid of Yatuja and Xenomorph. Very tough. With some specimens surviving falls from orbit or diving in Lava

"Look, uh, it hasn't killed anyone yet. We are holding it off." Rick explained. "J-Just make sure your guys get down here and help us out."

"RRRRIIIICCKKK!" Morty's scream echoed into the communicator.

"Talk to you later, bastard's trying to maul him." Rick explained causally before hanging up.

Ned could only sigh.  
Rick hung up on his liege lord in order to throw an exploding barrel at the Predalien. The explosion was more flash than thunder, but it had the effect of knocking Morty out of the beasts claws.

Thing about Xenomorphs, their genetic code was very dense. It meant that even the Tyranids couldn't assimilate their silicone DNA. It meant even a lowly drone could only be brought down by an armour piercing bullet to the head. And it meant this Predalien could take missiles to the face and ask for seconds.

Rick cried out in shock as the burning, acid bleeding thing started to run at him as he was reloading his rocket launcher

The acid blood was no weak agent, no sir. It was highly corrosive, able to eat though flesh and even steel in a matter of moments. Clearly nothing that anyone would wish to make contact with.

Rick gritted his teeth." C-Come on, fucknuts! Show me what you got!" He aimed once more.

The majority of Xenomorph blood was made of a compound called fluoro-antimonic acid. One of its properties other than dissolving just about everything was that it exploded in contact with water.

Rick lunged out of the way as the bleeding Predalien slammed into a tank of purified water. The explosion rattled Ricks teeth but he couldn't help but laugh.

He ran to get Morty and leave this fucker to Lord Starks men.

"Morty, Morty! Are you alriiightt?" he belched out to his grandson.

"O-Oh, Rick! I-I think I'm scarred for life." Morty whined, prone on the ground.

"Don't be r-ridiculous, Morty!" Rick replied. "This sort of crap happens to you all the time! It's just part of the adventures! Danger and death everywhere! And whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger! And this didn't kill ya, so you're stronger now! That means we can deal with even more crazy stuff and go on more adventures, Morty!"

"Rick, I honestly just wanted to hang with the Starks because Ned promised me a free college education and-oh shit, Arya!" Morty cried out, as Lord Stark's waifish daughter fell out of overturned container, covered in flour.

Arya coughed, "Hey, Morty, Rick," she coughed once more. "How are you?"

"The fuck are-urp-you doing here!" Rick demanded, "If you dad knows you're in danger, he'll cut my liquor allowance in half!"

"That's not my problem." The Stark girl responded. "Maybe you need to look into more odd jobs to make that money."

"Ah, come on! This is annoying enough as it is, hiding from most of the other houses who want to kill me!" Rick complained. "So what if those robotic animals proved homicidal. At least I deactivated the Shrink Ray that was on the Station. It was supposed to be a great zoo, Arya, a greeaaat Zoo! But noooooooo! They did not let me test in time! Not my fault, theirs!"

Rick continued his tirade as the Predalien began to pick itself up. "And the Predators love my zoo of deadly cyber animals; but they do they pay me money for it? No! They just give me raw beef as thanks, like I'm a fucking-urp-dog or something!"

Rick was cut off as gunfire struck the Predalien in the knees. Rooster drank rick's last beer and flipped open his revolver. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him was Duke Nukem and Polar Knight. "You are the dumbest genius I've ever met," said Rooster as the Predalien roared.  
"Yeah, well, I least I got a brain." Rick countered as he pulled out laser from his coat. "Though it's been no help with most of my life." The Predalien roared again...and Rick fired the laser into the mouth, the beam going in and through the back of the beast's head.

The Predalien twitched on the ground, excess nervous energy coming from its spine and ganglion. Morty watched mortified as the thing bled on the ground, burning holes in the space station hull.

Rick scoffed as he drew out a whiskey flask, "It's dead, Morty. It's brains are ashes. Just another dead critter."

As though to prove him wrong, the Predalien threw a large bag of flour at Rick, the scientist flying backwards and slamming into Rooster.

Duke looked down at Arya as the monstrosity stumbled to its feed; the loss of half its brain crippling it but not killing it. "You're a snot nosed kid with no combat experience," and he immediately handed her a gold plated handgun. "Take a minute to get familiar with that and follow my lead, short stuff."

Arya watched impressed as Rooster took careful aim with his gun. Despite her status as a 'lady', she herself was determined to be a great fighter one day, like Rooster.

For now, she simply watched...and learned.

Rooster went for the Monsters rapidly regenerating knees, hobbling it further. It swayed like a tree in the breeze but didn't fall.

Duke power slid under the Predalien, firing a salvo of diamond tipped explosive bullets into its back; distracting the beast.

Bringing up the rear, Polar Knight raised his enchanted Valyrian steel axe. The Predalien sensed him somehow, flinging its long tail at the polar knight.

Arya didn't think, she just fired the gun in her hand

Tough as the beast was, it was not immortal and even it could only take so much abuse and damage. Snarling in rage to the very last, the Predalien finally collapsed onto the floor, dead and decaying.

Rooster spat. "And that is how it's done there."

Tundra Knight simply nodded as he looked down at the hideous corpse.

Arya shuddered as she held the smoking gun in her hand. She'd tagged along for shooting leasing with Robb and Jon, but this was her first target that could fight back.

"Don't thank me for softening it up for you!" Came Rick's sarcastic voice as he gave Morty first aid.

It was then that Ned Stark stormed into the loading bay, sword drawn and eyes dark.

He took in the scene, from a stunned Morty with a deadpan Rick injecting him with advanced medicine, the dead Preadalian on the floor...and Arya, gun in hand.

Before he did anything he'd regret, Ned took a long, deep breath, sighed, and sheathed his sword. "Is everyone at least all right?" He asked.

"Yeah, we managed to off it before it killed anyone." Rick replied simply. "No harm done in the long run."

Ned turned to Arya , "Go to your mother." He spoke to Rick, "unless you want to start paying for your own liquor I need access to the teleport logs over the last 24 hours."

Arya attempted to return the gun to Duke, who refused it. "Keep it, kid. I got a whole drawer at home of those."  
Arya nodded, leaving the room to return to the personal quarters of the Stark family. Ned watched her go with a grim expression, nevertheless happy she was still alive after that messy incident.

Rooster began the process of getting the flour off his clothes as Rick began locating the teleport logs.

"Hey alright," He crowed drunkenly, "we got a low bandwidth piggyback signal from a contact on the outer edge of this solar system."

"Oh, jeez. I didn't even think those things were smart enough to use teleporters." Morty said.

"Well, the universe is full of surprises, Morty...and they all wanna kill ya!"

"An individual Xenomorph isn't smart," Ned spoke from dark experience. "As a hive they can perform complex puzzle solving and long term strategy."

Polar Lnight spoke for the first time, "On an airless moon around Death World Lustria, they took out our oxygen supply and suffocated half the troops on the campaign."

Ned nodded, remembering that incident, and on some survivors had to travel to Lustria itself to get away from the beasts. It was...not pleasant experience for them.

"I remember Lustria," said Morty, "Lord Mazdamundi was really nice. He stopped Kroq-gar from tearing my head off."

"Tech! Can't stand those fat fucking toad men," Rick belched, "they think just because they're the most powerful psychics in the galaxy that they're better than me!"

"Nevertheless, they are among the finest soldiers in the galaxy, and we need their alleignece." Ned replied. "Now, I want you all to clean up and get things ready. I sense dark times are ahead."

Agent 47 watched Lord Stark and his men on a cheap disposable tablet. He shut off the tablet and removed the memory chip, throwing away the device into a garbage chute.

Rick Sanchez was a master at countering spies and hacking, but his arrogance led him to forget about more amateur attempts at hacking. 47 had all he needed by hacking the video terminal of a junior programmer with a weak work password.

He knew the Stark's would prioritize Xenomorph extermination, and seek to unify the Death worlds. For now he would watch closely as they tried to clear out the derelict ship in the comet cloud

Now was not the time...if he did it now...everything would fall apart. First they all had to pull the strings to make the situation prime.

"It'll have to happen all at once, not just the Stark's but the Dreemur and anyone who can threaten the primacy of the crown." He uttered in a soft voice.

He looked up as he saw Gregor stalking towards him. 47 stared directly at Gregor without fear or hesitation. "As a show of good faith, you can help purge The Xenomorphs. By my estimates it's been nearly 7 hours since you killed something "

Gregor simply nodded. "It will be done."

47 nodded back, wondering still how he should approach the subject with K. Rool. He smirked slightly. He had to hand it to the Kremling, he could have skill when he used it. Already the Great Houses Zeal and Koopa had become close associates of his.

Zeal and Koopa stood to gain much from the planned fascist state of the future, being granted heavy weapons manufacturing rights and favored positions among long range spice hauling.

Recruitment of the currently wild Salmonids was proving difficult but progressing. With the promise of new breeding grounds and their intelligent members being addicted to spice, they could provide reliable, cheap cannon fodder for the crown

Zeal's house had extreme mastery over the art of magic, with countless spells in their possession. In addition they owned a good number of Death Worlds themselves, chiefly the multi-biomed Mira and Wyveria, both full of dangerous megafauna, meant to train hunters and to live off the beasts that dwelled there.

House Koopa was a military powerhouse, with mining from Zebes and Pandora, two very deadly Death Worlds, adding to their armaments.

House Windrunner commanded a vast army of undead who could fight in outer space , in high radiation environments and places too hazardous for ordinary beings.

Remove Sylvanas and her lapdog Nukem, and Facilier and LeChuck would both be happy to bend the knee.

Easier said than done though. Sylvanas was no fool. Not just a cable fighter, but highly intelligent and crafty herself, knowing all too well how the system worked...and willing to do anything keep herself from being plundered.

She'd be difficult to kill but not impossible. People thought Handsome Jack was untouchable before 47 added something to his evening martini, made his face turn purple as he choked to death.

The key to everything lay in making the great houses focus on external threats. Make them spend blood and treasure fighting the Tyranids, the Orks and the Grox.

Orks...now there was race they just confused the heck out of everyone. They were fighters to the core, and reproduced via spores, but those were not the most troubling things.

The most troubling thing was their technology... which, by all laws and appearances, should never work at all...but they did, but only in Ork hands. Relius theorized that the Orks had some sort of subconscious psychic power that made things work if they believed it so.  
The way Relius has described it was magic, if magic were very, very stupid.

Orks loved to fight, they were drawn to it like sharks to blood. They were the only species who celebrated when Yatjua hunting parties or Tyranid invasions came into the neighborhood.

Getting the Orks to pick a fight with the kings enemies would be like taking candy from a baby.

Not that he would ever actually TAKE candy from a baby. He had some standards.

Ah, but what what he doing thinking about this now? For now, he should go about and look into the spice production on several of the colonies.

47 shook his head and adjusted his tie. He was getting too ambitious in his advancing years. Thinking like a revolutionary and not a killer.

For now he could count on the Stark's to liberate the stockpile of spice on board the derelict ship. There were some corporate executives fixing the price of green and yellow spice who needed to talk to his favorite strangulation wire. A talk with that object usually help to straighten things out considerably.

He looked out the nearby window, taking in the multitude of stars. A dangerous galaxy they lived in.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the surface of the planet, two young men were fighting a gigantic armored bear.

Volibear roared and swiped his paws at Robb Stark and Jon Snow. "You Cubs has better give me a real fight!" He snarled

Both young men were armed with iron bars, ready to practice their skill against the might Stark warrior.

Robb and Jon were both sons of Ned, though only Robb was a trueborn. Jon Snow, as he was called, was a bastard child of an unknown mother.

As a bastard Jon could never inherit any of Ned Stark's holdings or titles. Yet despite this, Ned saw what the boy was capable of and gave him the same education and opportunity as his trueborn son.

For his part, Volibear was a brutal but fair teacher. In this galaxy the sons of Ned would have to be ready to fight tired and out of ammo against stronger, better motivated and better equipped foes. It was him who'd even swayed Catelyn to give Arya firearms training

Reluctant at first, yes, but Cat knew it would likely be for the best, so Arya was happy for the bear.

As for Jon, he saw himself of proving himself in the future. It would just take time.

Jon swung the iron bar in his hands, trying to hit a gap in the armoured bears metal plates. Volibear parried with a giant paw, but left himself open to a swing from Robb.

The bear shifted, knocking Jon over and pivoting to deal with Robb. Robb's iron bar glanced off the metal plate and threw off sparks

It was intense, but had to be. Many things in the various Death Worlds would be trying to kill them for real. Heck, even the Civilized Worlds could be dangerous.

So this training was all needed.

Volibear slammed his paw into Robb's chest and buckled his practice armor. The bear suddenly spun around as Jon Snow thrust the tip of his iron bar into the back of the bears knee.

In response the ursine warrior stepped on Jon, cutting off his breathing.

Then the great bear stepped back. "You have injured my knee and I've taken both your lives. Let your bruises be a reminder of this lesson."

Both men coughed. Catching their breath

"And remember," Volibear went on. "Lord Stark made have spoken of honor in all things, but out there, you will encounter both enemies who spit on honor, and those who have no concept of it."

"Worse yet," Volibear cautioned, "You'll meet those who wear the mantle of honor with none of the substance.

"But at least with Xenomorphs, you'll always know what to expect." said the voice of Ned Stark and his entourage. "And on the topic of the creatures, I have a volunteer job for you boys, if you're up to it."

Both young men turned to see their father.

"Always happy to help." Robb replied with a nod.

"Same here." Jon nodded as well. "What is there to do?"

Ned gave the boys a hard look, "I'm giving you lads your first real job. Not just fighting bandits or chasing pirates in a star fighter. We're going on a bug hunt, Xenomorphs."

Jon's jaw dropped while Robb grinned with excitement. "Here? On the planet?" Jon asked

"Apparently so." Ned confirmed. "I believe someone is weaponizing them here somewhere on this planet, and you need to track them down and shut down whatever operation is going on."

Jon took a moment to look out in the vast expanse, no doubt littered with countless dangers.

"Overwhelming, I know." Ned seemed to read his mind. "But I would not be giving you this task if I did not have absolute faith in your both."

"Leave your pride behind for this, Master Robb," Volibear scowled. "With the Xenomorph, expect only the unexpected."

Ned did not contradict his ursine servant. "A Predalien teleported onto Winterfell this morning. It came from a teleport signal from a derelict ship hauling spice, which was then bounced from a transmitter on the planet"

"So this transmitter could be a key to finding who was behind this?" Jon asked.

"Exactly." Ned confirmed.

"Leave it to us, father." Robb stated. "We'll get to the bottom of this matter."

"You leave within the hour," Ned instructed. "I need to personally oversee the sterilization of the derelict and retrieval of any cargo, but you'll get pick of men and weapons."

"Will we be bringing atomics, father?" Jon found himself asking.

Ned nodded, "We can't risk an outbreak. The signal emerged near a village called Barrow. Neighboring hunting and prospecting communities are being evacuated. If the hive is too deeply entrenched, wipe it out."

Ned's dark tone dampened even Robb's adventurous spirit. "Wipe out?"

Ned glared, "With extreme prejudice. We have an entire world to protect."

"It's harsh, yes, but sometimes you need to be in these times." The Stark tracker, Gelu, came striding up. The Glatarion was somewhat cold and aloof individual, but very loyal to the Stark family, and was good at what he did.

"Gelu..." Jon began.

"I'll be one of your men." Gelu confirmed.

Robb stood in awe of the old guerilla warrior, veteran of nearly a dozen wars. "We're honored, Gelu.

The Glatorian Hero nodded, "I'm not trying to honor you, I'm trying to keep you both alive. Not to mention that if someone is weaponizing the Xenomorphs, trying to bend them to his or her will, you'll need all the help you can get."

Blunt as always, but that was a welcome trait at times, especially on worlds like this.

Made the two wonder for a a moment if Sansa actually set foor upon the planet at all.

"I have about a dozen men I trust," Gelu elaborated. "Mercenaries, former war heroes with a lack of diplomacy, I think you'll like them, Jon Snow."

"Take this," said Ned, passing the passive sword at his side to Robb's hands. "Valyrian void weapons cauterize wounds; stops the creatures from bleeding acid on you."

Robb was at a loss for words

Jon smiled. "You should accept it, Robb."

Robb regained himself and nodded. "I shall use this weapon with the worth it was bestowed upon me." He said.

"Keep your men's lives in mind," Ned cautioned, "Regard them as your own beloved sons and they will follow you into the jaws of hell."

Gelu bowed to Ned, "My men are ready when your sons are ready. If need be we can pick up additional help on outposts along the way."

All seemed to be ready, and the two sons listened deeply to their father. He was noble man, despite the occasional chill he presented...but that was just the leader doing the needed talk. Deep down was a loving family man and someone of great honor.

Ned embraced both of his sons, "I'll be transporting up to the station to deal with the derelict. An atmospheric craft will take you both as far as The Wall, after that you'll have to make your way to barrow on foot to avoid the electromagnetic storms."

Jon nodded, "We'll make you proud, father."

Robb nodded likewise, "We'll return victorious, father."

Nothing more was needed to be said after, as all began to prepare for their dangerous missions.

Even for a noble, life could be harsh in this galaxy.

-  
In this harsh world, Arya watched her brothers leave to fight while she was stuck aboard a space station. She looked at the view screen with longing eyes and cradled the gun Duke Nukem gave her. "I should be there, fighting with them." she said to her sister, Sansa.

Sansa looked up briefly from her knitting, shaking her head at her sister's adventure lust. "Arya, Robb and Jon are going to kill monsters that reproduce entirely through rape. This is one fight you should sit out."

"Do those things actually RAPE people, or it is just metaphorical?" Arya asked with a frown.

"Doesn't matter, those things are highly dangerous. Read all about them." Sansa gestured to tablet that contained a wide variety of files regarding Houses, aliens, wildlife, and planets.

Arya looked at the information on Xenomorphs, and wished she hadn't. "Sansa" she asked, "why do I want to feel it again? The danger and andrenaline?"

Sansha shrugged, "probably because you're weird."

That didn't help

"Thank you very much." Was the heavily sarcastic reply.

The two sisters were...not very close, due to heavily conflicting personalities. Sansa was the 'traditional lady' type of girl, while Arya had a tomboy steak to her.

"I could join a mercenary outfit," Arya said more to herself than anyone else. "I could start out with Duke Nukem on Death World New Vegas."

Sansa didn't look up from her book. "While I'm sure he's irresponsible enough to let you, Sylvanas would send you right back here and mother would lock you in a tower."

"You really think they would do that?" Arya asked as Nymeria, her direwolf, came up to her, allowing herself to be petted.

"Well, maybe the lockup is out, but you'd be pushing it." Sansa replied.

"You're smart," Sansa said, "you don't have to lead a life of gowns, makeup and costume balls. You could be a planetary governor or a minister and father would support you."

Arya shook her head, "That's almost as bad. Wearing a suit and wearing a dress would be just as bad."

Sansa sighed, "If you want to be a great warrior you're going to have to do more than shoot, you're going to really have to broaden your skill set."

As Lady, another direwolf, came to Sansa, Arya stared at her sister. "Meaning?"

"You need to use a wide variety of weapons, as well as increase your sense and make sure your body can quickly adapt to any environment." Sansa went on. She put down her book, "look at Robb. He learned how to use every weapon and pilot every vehicle on ground and in space, and that was just the start. He knows how to lead men, how to spot an ambush and retreat when the odds are against him."

Arya was surprised, "How do you know so much about this?"

Sansa gave a sardonic smile, "Well I'm more than just a pretty face"

Arya just glared at that, before turning back out into the abyss. It was so...inviting. It sounded quite thrilling to travel the many worlds, seeing exotic life and realms.

She could run off to New Vegas, she'd get her wish on that world full of mutants, radioactive zombies and deadly ork like super mutants. But if she could work directly under Sylvanas...

Sylvanas was someone who'd fought in every environment, against every enemy and with every weapon. Arya's heart raced as she thought of becoming a galaxy famous battle queen.

Oh, that would win her some well-deserved respect all right. Maybe even the King himself would be impressed with her! That would so awesome!

But for now, she was stuck here on this giant space station, like many others would be.

In Winterfell's military open dock, Morty was being left behind. "I can help, Rick!"

Rick brushed off his grandson, "Morty, I need you to make sure the janitor doesn't pilfer my moonshine still. Lord Stark needs me to run scans on the derelict in real-time. Enjoy the rest."

Rooster Cogburn clapped Morty on the back, "Son, you don't want to be stuck in a bug hunt. And you don't want a man like Clegane watching your back."

Gregor scowled from across the small loading bay, calibrating his giant vibro Sword

Morty paled, having heard PLENTY of stories about the atrocities committed by the Mountain. None were pleasant.

Oh well. Maybe it was a good time to rest after being nearly killed...again. That was just Morty's luck. He lost count on all the ways he brushed by death.

Guilt still ate at Morty. He really liked Lord Ned. He was kind of like that cool neighbor who gave out full sized candy at Halloween and gave candy to adult trick or treaters.

He'd hate to think of something happening to Ned on the derelict. He'd also hate to think about something happening to Jon and Robb in the surface

Oh, why did the Galaxy demand so much from people? What is a comic joke? Or just what it was for no reason? That could be scary.

He looked out into the stars as well. The Great Houses owned many of the planets out there...and the Guild was a connector.

The galaxy was vast and full of riches as it was full of terrors. There were too many shipping companies to name, but the Guild occupied a special place. They didn't pay their captains, they just gave them a ship and a niche. This let them avoid regulation like the other shipping companies without being labeled true smugglers.

Morty dreamed of one day being a Guild captain. He was being trained in star navigation under Lord Stark's tutors. On a guild ship there would be lots of risks. But even a junior-junior navigator could earn twenty year's worth of a regular merchant sailor's wages if they were hauling an expensive cargo.

Rumors swirled around of the Guild hauling stolen spice, though nobody had been able to prove it. On a spice haul, the percentage paid even to a ship's dishwasher could set up a man for five lifetimes.

Morty felt lost in the future. He didn't want to live in his grandfather's shadow forever.

All so overwhelming...Rick was a super scientist, seemingly able to do anything. A lot to move out of. It would take miracle to do something like that, and make his own name among the records.

One thing at a time, though. For now...he had to keep on surviving.

Morty knew there was nothing he could do on a Xenomorph hunt. You only wanted elite soldiers to fight those creatures, especially if there was a Predalien or other exotic variants involved.

If he hit it big on a spice haul with the guild he could be rich enough to buy his own planet. He could have enough money to buy titles and claim a noble woman for marriage. A woman like Sansa Stark maybe.

...

...Fat chance of THAT. He was getting way too caught up in the moment. He was too dorky for someone like her.

Morty bumped into someone. Looking down, he saw Sansa's tomboy sister, Arya. "Uh-uh, Lady Arya, I'm-uh, really sorry!"

Arya shrugged at the dorky boy, "It's okay, Morty. Are you staying behind?"

Morty sighed, "Yeah, Rick wants me to guard his moonshine."

Course he does." Arya muttered.

"Yeah, he does like his drinks." Morty confirmed. "Seem to keep him going in this vast galaxy..."

"Well my father payed for his last two liver transplants," Arya put her hands in her belt.

Awkward silence fell between the two seens.

Morty scratched the back of his head, "So, uh, can I do anything for you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could, Morty,"

"Eh?" Morty looked up to see a dark smile across her face...one that spoke of no good.

Arya grinned and handed a note, sealed to Morty. "I was hoping you'd get this to Sylvanas Windrunner. She's still on the station and I trusted you to get this to her."

Morty just stammered, "Uh-uh, I-ah, oh sure!"

Sylvanas Windrunner, right. The hot undead lady that Morty had fantasized about for a while. Just go right up and talk to her

And hopefully not completely blow it, like a big dumb idiot. Great, no pressure.

Still...it was worth a shot. And he hated to turn down a friend

Morty nearly pissed himself and dropped the letter when Volibear stomped near him. "Careful, boy," said the bear in his most gentle voice. Which could still terrify hardened killers.

Volibear hauled a giant flame thrower in his paws; so big it normally was mounted on tanks and aircraft. Fire was good for cleaning out Xenomorph nests, a hot enough fire could crack their exoskeletons and prevent them from climbing on their melted hive walls.

Fire had its uses, especially in this icy wasteland of a world.

"Um, a-anything I c-can help you with?" Morty stammered, sweating quite large amount.

"Where are you taking that letter?" the ursine deadpanned.

"N-nn-nowhere," Morty stammered before the bear's icy gaze.

Volibear regarded the boy with alien emotions, inhuman aloofness; but no malice.

"...I see..." was all that was said. "I trust you, Morty. But don't be pushing it."

"Yes, sir." Morty sighed, relieved it did not explode into something nasty.

The bear snorted, "Sylvanas is by the armoury, restocking. If you need to talk to her, do it now." He stormed off, leaving Morty to breath a sigh of relief.

Volibear did trust Rick and Morty...that did not mean he LIKED them, finding them a little...problematic to say the least.

Nevertheless, Morty did as he was told and made his way to where Windrunner was.

Morty stood before her, she made his heart race even faster than Volibear had, but for different reasons.

Secretly he always had a thing for elves, his first fictional crush was for that lady from Lord of the Rings, which Rick mercilessly taunted him about and led to a nasty adventure in Naggarond; the Dark Elf homeland.

Sylvanas however regarded Morty with no malice, "Your mouth is wide open," she quipped.

Morty gulped as Windrunner gave an odd smirk, always enjoying messing with people, to test them out...how they thought in the terms of the galaxy and so on.

"Um, A-Arya w-wanted me to g-give you this!" Morty forced out, holding out the letter.

The undead elf smiled, "Yes, I was expecting something like this sooner or later, ever since Arya chose the knight doll over the princess doll when she was younger."

Morty continued to stammer, "Y-y-your wel-welcome!" Talk about a woman even more insanely unattainable than Sansa Stark.

She smiled at him, "Go get yourself a drink, Morty. And try to keep the station safe in case the worst should happen."

Morty found himself saluting stupidly, before scurrying off, leaving Windrunner alone in her thoughts.

She scanned over the note quickly. This would be a formidable task. She knew that Ned wanted Arya trained in self defense. He'd sooner have Rickon and Jon go to train with her as an apprentice than Arya. Arya was Ned's baby, and good luck getting through to a protective parent.

She frowned as she selected a high powered compound bow with explosive and fire and freezing arrows. Perhaps she could talk Ned into letting Arya learn politics on her world, then maybe give her the training the girl so desired.

Arya had potential, Sylvanas knew that. She just needed to be trained properly. It would be lethal to just waltz right into a death world.

For example, Sylvanas recalled a time she was given permission by the Dreemurrs to travel to the Gourmet World for supplies. Extremely tough as she was, it was still a harrowing experience: A planet with the circumference of 220,000 kilometers, with varied weather, biomes, and gravity, and populated with powerful animals, some as big as islands...and some even bigger.

Dreemur would be a good place to train her. They were allies of Ned, and more than that the many monsters on the surface were tough but fair. Getting killed was usually due to personal mistake, since so many of them favored personal duels.

Ark world might be good when she got older, but she didn't think Ned and Catelyn would be comfortable having their little girl tame dinosaurs or get an implant.

And getting her trained on New Vegas with Duke Nukem was out of the question.

Asgore and Toriel were good and reasonable people, if a bit too kind for their own good. Of course, even they would have to test Arya before the girl could THINK of setting foot on a Death World

There was also the case of Frisk, Toriel's adopted daughter of sorts. She might be a good female companion for Arya, lord knows she'd survived for years on her own in a monster infested mountain so she'd be a good squad mate if nothing else.

Arya had a certain personality type. She'd be wasted in some administrative post or as a pretty thing at a ballroom

Yes...this all required some thought. And she had time to do it, assuming no hostiles came en masse all of the sudden.

She now found herself wondering...what insidious plans was the King up to?

K. Rool was easy to understand. He desired unlimited power, more than what the brute force of his space marines could grant him. They were too few in number to be an effective police force. They could oust outside invaders, but they could never be an occupying army with their limited numbers.

Even if he took down House Stark and Dreemur, he was looking at two possible alien invasions from Tyranid and Grox sources. To say nothing of a potential ork invasion that could be triggered.

And there was also House Nui. Armed with advanced technology resources of their own, they were a formidable force. But they were good people, ready for justice.

They were mostly politically neutral, but their desire for peace, order and good government meant that they would naturally avoid any course that triggered a civil war or weakened the empire to outside threats.

Unity would be the saving grace of the galaxy, unity and brotherhood between the houses. It would be preferable to top down tyranny by shows of force.

The only way that K. rool could make his hostile takeover work would be if he could monopolize the spice trade.

And that would be quite difficult, considering how shrewd the business could be a times, everyone wanting their own portion of spice.

Spice trade was handled by over a hundred shipping, refining and processing companies. Even taking control of the guild would have little effect, since they had so little centralized control over individual captains.

He'd need something, some way to nationalize the major shipping companies and also neutralize the most affluent guild captains

Windrunner paused. He would find a way. Somehow...it actually unnerved her to think about...

She gathered her supplies and headed out.


	2. Infestation

AN: Ownership rules as usual. I should mention as well we were inspired by Game of Thrones, Dune, Warhammer 40,000, Warhammer Fantasy, Spore, and Starbound to right this.

* * *

The shuttle was getting ready to take off, the engines were fuelled and Rick Sanchez had all of his scanners and gear on board. With that, they could track each individual man and Xenomorph on board the derelict and also liberate the spice store inside.

Lord Stark marched forward in full power armor, minigun mounted on his back. Rooster followed in light armor while Volibear made up the rear. It was time to take on the Xenomorphs, and keep them from spreading to other places.

From a viewing area, Bran Stark, the second youngest of the Starks, watched this all happen, staring at the platoon. He was a young man, energetic; but he lacked Rob's overwhelming dedication to lordship or Arya's obession with combat. For the most part he was just content to climb and do well enough in school and combat lessons.

Though his eyes drifted to the canisters of Blue "Raven" Spice that Rick was using to power his equipment. Users of the Blue spice were said to be able to see the future, guide starships on instantaneous fold space journeys over billions of lightyears. His thoughts often drifted to such things.

Spice...a powerful substance, which certain colors more valuable...like the Purple 'Royal' Spice, only available to a select few, the King among them. What exactly the royal spice did was a matter of rumour and myth, the current king hoarded it to a degree which few kings had been able to.

Young as he was, Bran had strange feelings about his own destiny. He'd always had odd dreams and loved strange stories, but something about the recent events . . . they just gave him a chill he couldn't explain

And the ravens...he always saw ravens, notably one with three eyes...

What did it mean?

The sound of the ship taking off caught his attention again, and he watched in awe as it took of into the black, starry abyss.

For the first time since he was a child, Bran began to pray for his father to return home.

While Ned and his valiant crew zoomed off to a Xenomorph infested ship.

It was all...intimidating to think about. The hostile aliens were all extremely dangerous for a variety of reasons, from love of battle, hope for good hunting, or just sheer animalistic rage.

It felt like there was danger around every corner, and that things like the Xenomorphs, Orks, Tyranids and Yatjua would never lose their focus; while sentient peoples would only get lost in their little squabbles.

Spice and all its variants allowed the development of space travel on an interstellar scale, before the Long Night. Maybe it would be civilization's downfall.

Hard to say nowadays. For now, things seemed to be mostly quiet in the stars...

...But for how long?

* * *

Space was quiet, but it was not peaceful. Lord Ned always hated Space travel. It was one thing to climb on a cruiser with his family, it was another to jump into a rust bucket like this with just one wall between him and the cold of space.

His family were what drove him, and gave him the courage to overcome his fears. And to hide his fears for the sake of his men.

Clegane sat alone in a corner of the shuttle's loading bay, not worse but not any better than a Xenomorph.

Ruthless, violent, and terrible...no wonder K. Rool valued him.

Much of Gregor's history was cloudy. Born to the minor house Clegane, he grew fast and large, and with it his infamous temper. Rumor had it he even burned his younger brother's face over a minor incident. The temper issues were not helped by the constant headaches Gregor possessed.

In short, The Mountain was a dangerous man, who even went training in one of 's Death Worlds, Jumanji. Out of the 100-warrior unit he was part of, only he survived.

Even more worrying however was K. Rool's personal blade, Agent 47. His history was even murkier, with only a few scraps of information given to him by Rick Sanchez.

Supposedy he was custom made in a laboratory to be the perfect assasin. He first made his mark for a shadowy agency when he took out a veteran Yatjua hunter on Death World Subnautica.

At one point he ended up destroying the agency he worked for, but not before killing Van Pelt on Jumanji; then King K. Rool's favoured assassin. But K. Rool was not upset by that: If Van Pelt was killed by another assassin, then that assassin was simply better, and more worth having around. 47 was then allowed into K. Rool's inner circle as well...a place where only the best of the best were allowed.

Him and Relius were a lethal team, with the mad scientist helping the Hitman build new and creative ways to kill himself, or build more effective and innovative disguises. It had been 47 afterall who freed Relius from Death World Salusus Secundus, home of the ruthless Sardaukar. Imprisoned for various crimes, the mad, yet oddly clam and polite, scientist was busted out and given pardon...providing he gave service to the king.

But as bad as 47 could be, Pridak could be worse. The Military General of the entire royal army, the biomechainal being was a Barraki (an ancient term meaning 'warlord), and was once considered to be someone 'handsome'...and with that came a lot of pride. Then a great accident happened, mutating him into the hideous, amphibious shark-like form people knew of today. Not to mention under his calm and practice demeanor was a vicious, bloodthirsty psychopath...

But enough ruminating now. The ship was coming into sight of their destination.

Over the loudspeakers, Rooster merrily announced their arrival. "Humans and aliens, this is your pilot speaking. Air Rooster is on rout to the derelict ship. Our ETA is thirty seconds, so prepare for pressurization and boarding. Please keep your arms and feet away from any Xenomorphs."

Rick cut in on Rooster's broadcast, "She looks-urp-like a Cornerian vessel; very good quality. I'm pulling up her ID and name now!"

Rick began to work on identifying. He may be a mercenary, true, but he did admire Lord Stark, in his own way. Guy stuck to his convictions, for better or worse.

True Ned wasn't the highest paying employer Rick ever had. K. Rool, the fat bastard, could offer ten times as much.

However ,Ned was the first guy that Rick felt was safe to leave Morty with. After the thing with King Jellybean on Gourmet World, that was more important than ever.

Rick smiled as the scanners came up, "its a guild ship we're looking at!"

Ned sighed. "So even they have fallen victim to the scourge...prepare to board and exterminate."

Rick nodded as he moved the ship into position.

Time to kill some Xenos.

Ned turned to his men as the shuttle docked with the ship and the machinery clicked and clanked.

"This is a guild ship, the captain will have ripped it apart and rebuilt it a hundred times to customize it for each job. We set up a perimeter and heavy weapons in the cargo bay and we don't sweep ahead until Rick gets schematics."

Sylvanas joined Ned's side and looked to Clegane. "Lord Stark was interested if you'd volunteer to take point, Ser Mountain."

Cleagne stared at her, then strode forward. "I will scout ahead."

No use agreeing with him, Ned knew. Might as well let him do as he wishes. Besides, he would kill any Xenomorph he saw, which was the entire point.

The lights were completely destroyed in the loading bay. Laser security turrets had their power sources and targeting systems ripped apart.

Worst of all was that damp, mold smell in the air. All the hallmarks of Xenomorph activity. As a species they didn't need technology. Any new problem was solved by impregnating new hosts and using their DNA to create new variants .

And they were quite lot of variants...but they all shared several things in common.

Dangerous, vicious, crafty, hard to kill...and nightmarish to the core.

And these were just one of the MANY savage species out there in the void of space.

Gregor stomped over the blood stained floor, holding his massive sword and equally massive handheld shotgun.

Everyone in the room had seen the variety of Xenomorphs. The Predalien only being one of the most famous .

In fighting on Lustria's moon, Ned had seen Xeno-orks; psychotic bullet sponges with teeeh. On Ark, Sylvanas had purged the southern deserts of Dino-xenos. On New Vegas Rooster battled ghoul Xenomorphs who could grow stronger and regenerate from radiation. Zeal's fighters even had reports of Xeno-wyverns, which were practically the stuff of nightmares, to put it VERY lightly.

And on and on the list went.

Volibear began setting down automatic turrets normally used to take down medium tanks. Sylvanas fires an arrow into a wall which released a burst of green light. "Clear!" She shouted as the scanner arrow sent data into her eyepiece.

There could be more than Xenomorphs on this ship. Xenomorph infestations often attracted Yatjua hunting parties, Tyranid gene stealers looking to one up them, Ork kommandos and more. It was like an infection that invited more infections. A disease that had to be cured before it escalated...and destroyed everything, even themselves...

Ned, his face grim with duty, marched forwards, ready to take on the monsters that would threaten his home, his people...his family.

Floating drones built by Rick flew in and started to weld shut the various air vents in the room. The handful of elite men he's brought along were dug in.

The beach head was established. "Rick," Ned demanded over the com link, "do you have the ships layout?"

"Let's see here..." Rick muttered as he uploaded the map to everyone about the area. "Yeah, a doozy here, but keep track of the map and you'll be fine...at least, in terms of knowing where you are, cant promise anything else."

"Your map is an incomprehensible pile of shit!" Shouted Rooster as he exited the shuttle, "did you draw this in MS Paint?"

"Shut it, broke back!" Rick snapped, "if Sylvanas can read it so can you!"

"What about crew numbers?" Ned asked

"Hmmm, hard to say..." Rick admitted. "Don't see anyone else on here right now...though I AM picking up hostiles." Rick read over the ship manifests. "Captain never kept track of crew numbers. But you're looking at a hundred guaranteed hostiles. None of them moving. Closer to the ships engines, hive resin blocks the scans. They're building better hives."

Rooster scoffed. "Well, I for one will NOT be an incubator." He cocked his gun. "Let's kill some fuckers."

"They're using heat and light from the engines to drive chenosynthesis; feed their queen and give her energy to make eggs, if they've gotten that far." Ned observed. "Rooster, Volibear, I don't want to fight them in the hive just yet. Make some noise once you find a good narrow corridor to funnel them in."

Both of the banner men nodded, knowing it would the best course of action. When fighting swans of any enemy, a good strategy was to funnel them into a narrow path, to make them easier targets, and to prevent getting surrounded.

That was where Ricks drones came in. Xenomorphs were highly flexible; their exoskeleton resembleing chain mail in many places. The result was they could fit anywhere they could get their head through.

The two men moved forward, with Clegane naturally moving to where fighting would be fiercest

The Clegane's family sigil was that of hounds...fitting due his fearsome, battle-ready nature. Like the hound of his family crest, Clegane was ready to kill all the time. Those three dogs had been killed bringing down a deadly predator on Death World Norsca. Gregor would suffer no such fate.

Already, he could hear the scurrying about of the aliens...

...In fact…

He thrust his sword through a sealed door and was rewarded with a screech. This was a cramped corridor with no back entrance, so Lord Stark would have his noise.

He pulled his blade back and opened the door, stepping back with satisfaction as the course of Xenomorph feel through, the acidic blood hissing against the floor.

One down, many more to go...and the commotion he heard told him they were coming.

While Clegane exalted in the kill, Volibear and Rooster prepared for the onslaught. "I'll take the heavy units," the ursine growled, firing up his flame thrower.

Rooster held up his pistols, "I'll keep the face huggers off you."

It went to hell when an ork Xenomorph crashed through a wall and knocked over Gregor like a bowling pin. The hideous creatures screeched in fury, moments before it was consumed by fire to prevent it from sporing. More traditional 'human' xenomorphs came following, but Gregor and Rooster wasted no times.

Rooster focused on shooting the face huggers, little things with a long tail and body like grasping hands. Alien queens produced thousands of these things per hour. More if the colony tapped into a silicon ore vein to farm.

They were the ones to impregnate living beings with a chest burster. They were fast and the slime on their bodies hid them from all but the most accurate scanners. Just another example of Xenomorph evolution.

And once on, they were impossible to remove, until they fell off...which they did once the egg was inside, which would soon hatch and burst painfully from the chest of the victim, and rapidly grow to adult size.

So they had to be taken out fast.

In the case of regenerating creatures like Space Marines or Orks, a host could survive chest bursting and serve as a multi use incubator. A fate Rooster would wish on very few. Speaking of which…

Clegane shoved his shotgun into the mouth of a xenomorph. He scowled under his helmet as he pulled the trigger. Behind him, he hardly felt the heat of Volibear's flamethrower through his armor. Under his feet, burned Xenomorph bodies crackled like kindling. The fire consumed all...all except him, with his specialized amour, covering him head to toe. It would take tremendous force to even pierce it.

Another xenomorph charged in. This one had six legs, it was smaller than the ones born from humans. A hormigaunt-xeno, born from a face hugger impregnanting a Tyranid.

The tyranid-morph used its superior agility to run along the walls and land on Gregor's back. There it opened its mouth and fired the proboscis characteristic of all Xenomorphs.

Gregor's eyes widened as he realized the thing had just hit the latch connecting his helmet to the rest of his suit. He was enraged. He reached back and seized the alien, yanking it off before it could try any real damage. He then, will all his might, smashed the creatures against a wall, splattering it. His armor deflected the acid.

Gregor cursed as he holstered his shotgun, using his armoured gauntlet to get the latch back into place. The thing was supposed to be idiot proof, battle proof. For the xenomorph to open it like that, it would have to hit the mechanism with a specific amount of force; down to the thousandths of kilograms per area.

His helmet was on, but his suit's HUD told him the vacuum seal was broken. Just great.

He took out his anger with his sword, slicing one Xenomorph from crotch to head.

He would have a 'word' with the last foolish mechanic who worked on his suit...yes.

Rooster reloaded is revolver, shoving speed loaders as fast as he could. Next to him, Volibear turned over his flame thrower and ejected the empty fuel tank. As the fires stopped, so did the Xenomorph tides.

Through the smoke and smell of charred flesh and burning acid, Rooster winced; grateful for the energy air filter rick had installed into his and Volibear's suits. Even the fumes from Xenomorph blood could cause painful death.

Then a pair of black, clawed hands thrust through the floor and dragged Gregor through it. A single word came to Rooster's mouth, "Praetorian."

Functioning as guards to the Queen and the hive, these Xenomorphs were exceptionally powerful and skilled, rearing someone of great power to take one on.

Fortunately, Ned and all those with him were such people.

Rooster reached for the specialty ammo on his belt, a nice set of explosive, armour piercing, incendiary rounds. He'd have to shoot through the joints of the Praetorian; he'd seen the frontal armour on their head crests resist missile strikes.

"There is a queen here," Volibear and Rooster spun around to see Ned Stark in power armour, holding a Valaryan void axe. "Take down the Praetorian and let us charge into the hive."

The couldn't say a word before Lord Stark jumped down after Gregor and the Preatorian.

Lord Stark...a man who led by example. Hard not to follow a man like that.

As such, he was soon followed by his men, into the dark...where dangers awaited.

One thing Ned truly believed was that the galaxy would not be inherited by the cruel. They might win short term gains, but those who watched their brothers and sisters backs would be the ones to take the day.

On the comms, Rick updated them. "Okay guys, you got a long service tunnel full of possible ambush spots; it's the shortest and shittiest way to the Queen's chamber." His voice faltered, filling for once with concern, "Uh, Ned, don't die. Catelyn will kick my ass if you do."

Ned could not help but crack a small smile at that. "Do my best."

Head down the cramped tunnels, Stark and the others were prepared for anything, as those monsters could pop out without a moment's notice.

Always be aware in the galaxy, or one would be dead.

Rooster stepped forward and grabbed something off the ground, Clegane's helmet. "He's alive," he inferred. "They're going to want him as a host."

"It's no less than he deserves," uttered Volibear darkly.

Ned looked at his two men, "And deal with a space marine xenomoprph hybrid?"

Volibear nodded. "True...best leave his death to something that won't leave anything behind."

A crashing sound caught their attention.

"And he ain't going down without a fight." Rooster noted.

Ned pressed a button on his armour's gauntlet, three glowing orbs floated out of a hidden pannel; providing lighting in the darkened, cramped corridor littered with broken machinery and holes chewed in the floor.

"They've been moving spice containers, "Volibear pointed out.

Indeed canisters of spice covered in slime and resin littered the floor, from the look of it they'd been dropped when Ned and his crew attacked the ship.

Rooster frowned. "The hell would they want spice for? They got no use for it? They only want to spread and evolve, not get high!"

Ned paused, thinking. Why WOULD they want the spice?

Xenomorphs were a silicon based lifeform. They harvested silicon from planet's crusts to build their hives and fuel to make eggs; but they reproduced through and fed on carbon based life. Their DNA was highly rigid and durable, they needed carbon-based life to copy, to change and evolve.

Were they now using the spice to change themselves? To guide their own evolution? The thought filled Ned with dread. "Rick, get some drones to pick up these containers of spice; analyze it as best you can."

"Drones on the way, boss!" Rick replied as the group moved forward.

As the drone moved out for their task, Ned and his team followed the sounds of battle. It was always easy to find Gregor like this.

And sure enough, upon reaching their destination...

The Praetorian had torn off one of Gregors arms, it's teeth were stained red from it. Gregor fought back like a rabid dog, slashing at it with his massive sword and cutting off part of its tail.

Suddenly the Praetorian lunged and pinned Clegane to the ground. A face hugger was crawling closer to the mad Space Marine.

Gregor snarled with animistic fury, never willing to give up until the bitter end. The face hugger readied to jump and latch...

...and was promptly shot dead by Rooster.

The loss of his arm was a minor thing. The wound to his pride would take longer to heal. Under 47's orders he couldn't kill them now, but his day would come.

Lord Stark swung his axe and hamstring the monster, right behind the Sylvanas readied an arrow and fired it right down the Praetorians throat.

The creature, wounded, staggered back, as Volibear tore through the ranks with his own weapons. The nest began to fall apart around them quickly.

Sylvanas notched a special arrow, a nuke arrow. Let loose, it slammed into a wall and burned a man sized hole right through it. Right into the queens chambers. Another nuke arrow from Sylvanas tore a hole in the Praetorians head.

As the corpse fell to the ground, a dark hiss could be heard.

The Queen was alert...and angry.

An Xenomorph Queen was a extremely dangerous and deadly creatures. Possessing extreme brute power and immense size, it was not to be trifled with casually.

The Queen was big, uglier than the Praetorian; able to live thousands of years if they didn't meet a violent end.

Filling the room was her egg sac, a vast translucent wet thing. Connected to the egg sac were thin tentacles that were burrowed into piles of spice

A nasty sight for all that looked upon it.

"Hey there, Ugly." Rooster causally spoke up.

The Queen simply snarled, ready for battle.

The Queen swung her tail around, crumpling Gregor 's breastplate like tin. The man roared in pain and hacked at the tail.

Volibear unleashed his flamethrower, scorching the egg sac, making the queen scream in pain

The Queen, seeing the eggs may be lost, decided to make these fools pay...directly. With that in mind, she detached herself from the sac and engaged them directly.

Her speed was impressive, sprinting she could outrun a cheetah and keep pace with most military ground vehicles.

So Ned did the obvious thing and jumped in front of her. He turned his power armor into overdrive and swung his axe

It all happened so fast it was hard to really grasp it. Ned swung hard and true, inflicting a damaging wound upon the Queen, and moving out of the way of the blood flow.

His axe struck behind her massive head crest, between the plates on her neck. His suits schematics all came up red.

Nothing was more dangerous than a wounded animal, so he swung his axe again and cut off her proboscus

Indeed, the Queen, despite the damage, was not quite done just yet. Blind with pain and rage, she swatted Ned aside. The armor kept him alive and mostly intact, but the blow still HURT.

Sylvanas took her chance, though, to use her arrows on the wounded beast.

This arrow was special, made just for the queen. It was acid proof, adamantium tipped and designed to deliver compressed water into her bloodstream.

The alien blood reacted explosively with the water, exploding the queen's head like a melon at a shooting range

The body of the beast staggered a bit, before collapsing into an ugly heap, allowing everyone to catch their breaths.

The voice of Rich Sanchez broke the peace over the coms. "Ned what the fuck? Your armor is fucked! Power supply is fried, circuits are burned out. Don't get me started about the nanomachine population!"

Ned laughed, "I only took on an alien queen by myself, thanks for asking."

"...Oh I see. Er, well, good job." Rick barely managed to hide his relief and impressed feeling with his usual taciturn nature. Typical of him.

Rooster signed as he reloaded his guns, "Nice kill, boss. We got her before she could start laying eggs."

"With any luck, the ship can be rebuilt and retrofitted for use in your navy, Lord Stark, " Sylvanas congratulated.

Ned simply nodded, tired from just all that. Right now, he'd need to clean up a bit before heading home to his wife and children...and to make sure Gregor got his arm regenerated.

A medical robot could see to Gregors needs. All he needed was to get that arm stapled on and he'd be in fighting form in a day. Besides, Ned didn't trust The Mountain that Rides with the lives of his medical staff.

"Get on the line," Ned ordered, "have the ship towed into orbit and get repair crews on the ready "

The orders were soon carried out, along with requests of the corpses to be moved out. No one wanted those around for long.

The ship's crew were dead to the last, the Captain nowhere to be found. The engines and the external weapons were functional, though large portions of the vessel had lost atmosphere due to xenomorph burning through the hull.

The space born threat was dealt with, which meant that it was now up to Robb and Jon to purge them on the planet.

...How were they doing, some had to wonder.

* * *

How they were doing was cold. Even with internally heated power armour, the whipping winds of the arctic regions were brutal. Robb cradled his father's sword in his hands, for the entirety of the trip he'd been reciting old lessions; everything from Old Nan's fairytales to advanced modern tactics and strategic ground warfare.

"We've coming up on the wall!" the Pilot announced over the intercom.

Gelu paid no need, merely paying attention to his arrows. He trusted them, yes, but when it came to real battle, he could always rely on his trusty icy blade, to hack down those in his way.

He remembered the days when he regularly fought the Skavens...

Funny thing about the Skaven, they weren't particularly frightening individually. But they were ruthless and adaptable. They were also highly technologically advanced; using their mad science to make up for poor troop morale and weak individual units. It was the insane technology combined with dark magic which kept them competetive in a galaxy of horrors.

But enough about that. They were approaching their destination...and they had to be prepared of anything that might be there.

Gelu could see the Wall on the view screen. It still managed to stir even his cold heart. Built thousands of years ago, stretching for over forty-five thousand kilometers; it stretched five kilometers high and was as solid as the day it was built.

Mostly people took it for granted, only believing it good to block the electromagnetic storms from the planet's frozen north.

And yet, he knew better, it was blocking...something else...something unknown.

And soon, they would be landing at their destination of it, to find out who was behind the current mess.

The Wall would keep the Xenomorphs in for now; such was the technological wizardly behind it, ancient technology from before the long night.

the shuttle's engines fought against the strong winds as it settled on the landin pad. Ready for action, Rob, Jon, Gelu and the men exited to storm the village of Barrow; the epicenter of the transmission.

Quickly, they noticed how...quiet it was, more so than usual of the sleepy, cold town. Everyone was quickly alert, for anything that might happen in the cold.

"This was a village of about a hundred people," Gelu supplied, readying his advanced war bow, "The only place with a transmitter strong enough to reach Winterfell station is the meteorological outpost at the center of town."

"Does it have an extensive basement structure?" Robb asked.

Gelu nodded grimly, "Definitely."

"Underground..." Robb muttered.

"Skavens?" Jon asked.

Gelu grimaced. "Quite possibly, but we won't know until we descend..." They entered a nearby tavern, only to find it empty. Usually there was someone here, at least a worker, but now...nothing.

"This area is built on relatively soft limestone under the permafrost," Jon read off the data on his overhead display. "If they're here, they'll have an easy time tunnelling."

"Not to mention they're one of the few races reckless enough to experiment with Xenomorphs," Gelu uttered.

Brushing back some loose boards he saw, Robb noticed a tunnel leading downwards into the depths of the earth.

"Their work, all right." He muttered to himself.

"You boys still have that atomic bomb with you?" Gelu asked, peeking down the seemingly bottomless hole. "If the Skaven have established a base and posess captive Xenomorphs, the logical course of action is to detonate it at the hart of the warren."

"Sounds like a suicide mission," Jon observed.

"Only if you're not quick," Gelu retorted.

Jon let out a deep sigh. It was risky, but as it turns out, no longer any worry for civilian casualties...as they were already dead.

Bits of skin covered the walls of the tunnel, human skin. Skaven viewed other species as livestock, so eating the locals was cheaper than importing food from off world in their beady eyes.

Robb and Jon nearly gagged from the smell, which only grew stronger as they descended, eventually finding themselves in a large cavern littered with human and animal bones.

And up ahead, they heard the chittering of the rat people. Already there were armed, ready to engage the filthy vermin.

They had to be on guard though. Who knew what else they would encounter?

These were Clan rats, it would be a mistake to engage them. They were poorly armed and trained, carrying nothing but rusty pistols and knives if they were lucky. They weren't the main threat, not like Storm Vermin, the terrifying Robots of Clan Skryer or monsters of Clan Moulder.

The Clan rats could be evaded as they fought over scraps of lord knows what.

Down another tunnel could be heard the sound of machinery, heavy stuff by the noise; that was where the team would go.

The plan was simple. Infiltrate the middle of the settlement they had, plant and arm the bomb, and run. Hopefully they did not have the ability to properly disarm it.

A Storm Vermin in heavy power armor and with a powerful plasma rifle guarded the entrance to the machine shop. An arrow to the eye took it out without a problem. The Vermin standing next to it spun around but had its head cut off by Robb's sword before it could raise alarm.

They entered further, as Jon worked at a crude Skaven terminal; plugging in his wrist computer he began to loop camera footage so the Skaven overseers wouldn't see them coming.

But they would catch on that SOMETHING was up eventually, so haste was needed. The team kept moving, on guard for anything Skaven that might be around the corner..

Power cables led them; Skaven machinery was notorioiusly power intensive, requiring large amounts of radioactive metal infused with dark magic to run. Cutting the power at the edge of the facility would shift guards while Jon and Robb planted the bomb.

Reluctantly, Gelu left the boys as he did not trust any of his men to do this evasive job.

Rob and Jon didn't have to wait long before the sound of Skaven Tek priests chittering turned furious.

And they heard voices as well.

"Intruders, I smell!"

"BAH! No one foolish to come down here! This town unimportant anyways! Makes good hiding place!"

That was always the main weakness of the Skaven, their blind overconfidence. They could already hear one of the higher ups berating his subordinate, "Send-Send Stormvermin! Yes-yes! Stupid Clan rats chew-chew wires again!"

Blame the Skaven for insulating their wires in something their species found tasty.

The sound of armored boots told Jon and Robb that Gelu had cut the power and that they could proceed.

They two half-brothers moved forward, taking out the occasional sentry here and there. No time to hide the bodies though. Just kill them to avoid them alerting others.

Soon, they found a good place and place the charge under a rock to keep it hidden from plain sight.

The cave was a sight to behold, and by sight I mean a horror. in a vast Cauldron, human heads, organs and limbs floated in a red, viscous substance. A Xenomorph Queen in chains shrieked before a sadistic Skaven researcher electrocuted her. Wires and probes stuck to her egg sac as an inhibition field held her egg laying in check, for now.

By a control panel, a captive Yautja in a stasis capsule was starting to stir. And over by what looked like Dr. Frankenstein's lab, Skaven slaves were trying to handle face huggers safely. Those who didn't were shot down by their Stormvermin overseers.

About the area, Hell-Pit Abominations lurched about the area, their hideous forms seeking out enemies. Various test tubes held Salmonid poison to study as biological weapons.

All these depraved acts, with all unaware they were about to meet an explosive end.

The Hellpit Abominations were tough, able to handle as much firepower as a tank of comparable size; but they were't very smart. Skaven were afraid that Artificial Intelligence would turn against them so they mostly relied on bio-organic brains to meet their needs; which more often than not ended up eating their masters.

Robb saw his chance as a floating truck full of pink paste and food byproduct began to float over the lab to a dispenser. Mother's milk to Skaven. He aimed his rocket launcher and showered the testing area in pink gore.

The Hellpit Abominations roared with hunger, suddenly not able to tell their masters from food.

Chaos spread as the Skaven tried to reign control over the beasts, screeching with panic and rage. Jon took the time to arm the bomb, and used the distraction to flee with Robb.

Stormvermin unloaded their plasma rifles on the hellish monster, which was actualy twenty or thirty different abominations stitched together in one awful package.

Fortunately their weapons fire provided cover for Jon, who ran behind one of the main portable reactors and began to prime the bomb.

Unfortunately the weapons fire unleashed the wakening Yautja and the Alien Queen. Robb swore.

The two seriously angry creatures, though, were more focused on their tormenters than the fleeing brothers, and immediately attacked the Skaven. The Queen took priority over the ones torturing her, ripping them limb from limb.

The Yautja first made its business with the head Skaven researcher, a rat man that was more machine than Vermin. The creature squeaked hisses and insults in its harsh langauge at the Dreadlock wearing alien.

Yatjua used Skaven to train their children, sending their young against hordes of Clan rats armed with just bladed weapons. This Tek Priest wasn't even worth the hunter's time.

The Yatjua grabbed one of the Skaven's mechanical arms and ripped it out of the socket with a spray of blood and oil. Then, contemptuously, it caved the rat man's head in with his own arm.

A warrior came running at the hunter next, but it too, was seen as nothing to the might Predator, who simply reached out, grabbed the head, and tore it clean off.

Meanwhile, the Xenomorph Queen attacked the Hellpit Abomination. The two creatures writhed like angry snakes when the Queen emerged on top. Her claws and extra pair of arms held the struggling monster still as her proboscus punched a hole into the beast's brain.

Actually one of several brains; the Queen destroyed its major brain, paralyzing but not killing it. This way it could serve as a host for a face hugger later from one of its dozen mouths and produce a Xenomorph abomination.

Little did anyone know she would not get the chance...the countdown kept going and going, tiny beeps signifying the approaching blast.

Robb, Jon, Gelu, and all the others rushed back up the tunnel, knowing time was short. Bursting from the tavern, they rushed to their vehicle.

The Yautja in his dark mask scanned Rob, Jon and Gelu fleeing the scene. It took snapshots of each man as best it could with its tech-mask. Realizing the chaos around it, the Predator saw Skaven flood the chamber in numbers even it could not hope to defeat, the alien queen was fighting like a cornered animal and it knew enough about humans to know what the nuke's timer meant.

On a work table was its wrist device, still intact. Placing it on, the Yatjua was cloaked in light bending technology. It would thank the Stark boys in its own way, in the future. For now it had to follow their example.

Unseen now, it quickly fled, and it was not long before it was out of blast range.

"Let's go!" Robb ordered, and without further ado the vehicle took off, and soon was out of range...

The bomb's timer began to dip down...5...4...3...2...1...

The explosion could be seen from the Wall. The town was evaporated and earthquakes were triggered for miles as underground tunnel systems collapsed from the concussive force. Gelu got a little bit off since his unique DNA divided at less than half the rate the humans did; making him less vulnerable to radiation. Robb and Jon however would have to take a freezing shower at the wall to get rid of any radioactive fallout on them.

The watershed was poisoned with radioactivity as well and would require much environmental cleanup. Of xenomorphs and Skaven, however, there was not a trace.

Gelu sighed, his biomechanical body tired out from this harrowing ordeal. "Well, that's that."

The two brothers nodded as Jon spoke up. "Take us to base."

And so the the vehicle flew off, as the smoldering remains of the settlement emitted smoke high into the air. Such was the reminded that life in the galaxy, no matter your rank, was dangerous and perilous.

Such was life.


	3. Royal Schemes

You know how ownership works...

* * *

All the Noble Houses of the Galaxy possessed massive space stations that served as their homes and main base of operations.

But none were as grand as the Royal Space Station, the Imperial City. A truly massive station, it was designed with different architectural styles, and contained numerous sections, form libraries to barracks to labs to dining halls to pleasure rooms to even massive arenas for bloodsport.

Imperial City, once upon a time, had been a simple refueling station built in the aftermath of the Long Night. Then it had been a safe port for the first few traders and explorers trying to move into the newly empty space lanes.

Then a few thousand years ago the Valaryans invested in it as a military outpost and sector governor's residence. That ended with the Great Doom.

That wasn't the end of Imperial City, strategically placed by all the richest trading lanes and orbiting a cluster of planets with high spice resources; several dynasties spent blood and treasure turning it into the grand city it is today.

And now, it was the head of the Galaxy, and the personal lair of the High King himself, King K. Rool. Also occupying it were his inner circle, his legions of Kremlings, Zingers, Neckys, Gnawtys, and the dreaded Space Marines, as well as various servants.

As for the crocodile himself...

"Is there any reason in particular that the East Pool hall has been painted yellow?" asked the obese crocodile with barely concealed anger. "Is there any good reason my favorite pool room is now blinding yellow from walls to ceiling?"

Reilius Clover had an answer, "An unfortunate side effect of an experiment with nonotechnology, my lord. Painters will restore the room by day's end."

"Well, hot dawg," chuckled a dice headed humanoid, "Looks like someone isn't as smart as they think they are."

Relius ignored him as he spoke to the King. "As I said, sometimes scientific progress has its...complications. You have my most sincerest apologies."

K. Rool nodded. "Hmm, well, never mind. Right now we have more important matters to attend to. Zeal and Koopa should be arriving any moment soon."

Relius bowed, "Lord, you'll be happy to know that Dr. Strange has arrived to oversee security for Queen Zeal, and that she will be arriving in the hour on her cruiser."

King Dice cut in, eager for his king's favour, "Meanwhile, Sombra is likewise overseeing security for Koopa while Bowser Junior enjoys the gambling facilities in the gold level."

K. Rool nodded, a smile returning to him. "Good, good. Have them all meet me in my throne room once all are here, and make sure the others of our circle are gathered as well. Please bring refreshments and canape. My followers have invested in me, trusted in me and it is only fair that they see the fruits of their investment," K. Rool rewarded his followers, though he never truly trusted them.

King Dice smirked, "I'll see to it that everyone is comfortable and off their guard."

K. Rool chuckled. "Now, now, we're not killing them. They are highly valuable allies. Especially with the coming events."

"Indeed." Another member of K. Rool's circle, Krux, came striding from a corridor. The Beastmaster, the masked, cloaked figure was responsible for the use of the various mighty beasts under royal command...and he took his job seriously and coldly. "When they arrive, I would like to personally thank Queen Zeal for the live capture of a Xenomorph Wyvern. To say nothing of her extraction of Salmonid research and splicing from the Skaven Clan Molder," the robed beast master uttered evenly.

"Quite the fine piece to your collection," the King chuckled. "Had any luck in controlling the monster yet?"

"Slowly, but yes." Krux confirmed. "Still mauls some of the Gnawty's servants, but the beast seems to respond to me in some sense."

"Good." K. Rool smirked. "Take the time you need...we have it."

The gathering was interrupted by a man in a cape, with a fancy mustache teleporting into the room. Dr. Stephen Strange took a knee and knelt before the king. "Your majesty, your security lives up to its reputation. As of now, Queen Zeal is docking at a minor shipping port on the station."

K. Rool nodded as he turned to Dice. "See to it that the Koopas are informed, and have them escorted to our meeting location."

"At once, sire." Dice saluted, before leaving to do his job. "I'll tell Koopa Junior that the poker girls are going on break," he grinned, "That should pull him away from gambling for a hot minute."

"Hola Hermanas!" shouted the distinct woman in lavender, "Don't start the party without Sombra and her sexy lord Koopa! He's docking now!" Eccentric as always, Sombra always knew how to draw attention...which belied her almost godlike skin as a hacker. Clearly Bowser knew how to pick them. Sombra was a far cry from the taciturn Hitman or the nearly animalistic Celgane, but she got the job done. And she could be stealthy when she wanted to be.

"Bow, you shits!" Cried a blue haired woman in robes, "Queen Zeal is here!"

Obviously Queen Zeal had been having a shitty day, so K. Rool was willing to cut her some slack to keep her exemplary magic skills on his side. "Ah, the matriarch of House Zeal, Matriarch of Antiquity and my favorite spell caster."

The Queen smirked, "At least someone knows how to treat a lady, my lord."

Queen Zeal, an expert sorceress, was known by many to be an arrogant and haughty woman, and one few wished to cross. She controlled much of the magical guild in the galaxy, and would not share secrets easily.

Behind her, her two children followed, Schala and Janus.

Schala, in stark contrast to her mother, was gentle, kind, and demure young woman, always hoping to help those in need. Beautiful and lovely, she was beloved by many.

Her younger brother Janus, though, was an odd one. Intelligent for his age, he was also quite cold and aloof for a young kid.

It was K. Rool's sincere hope to use the power of magic as a trump card against the Tyranid hordes and the heavily armored but unintelligent Orks. If push came to shove, he hoped that the Queen's children could be loyal and steadfast allies to him, turning their magical talents against the enemies of the crown and being rewarded for it as part of the new fascist order.

More than that, Simon and Dr. Strange were deathly loyal to the Zeal heirs. Well, Simon always hid it thanks to the fact for the most part he was a HUGE jerk, but still, he had some scruples, and loyalty to the children was one of them.

House Zeal had the talent with magic, House Koopa had the ruthlessness and the industrial output to make K. Rool's dreams a reality. And speaking of which, here they were now.

"What did I tell you about gambling? It's all rigged!" Bowser shouted at his son, Bowser Junior.

"I was winning, I was hot, I could feel it!" his son protested.

"Enough of that!" Bowser snapped, "Bow to your king!"

All the family members bowed to the Supreme King, who simply smiled. "Now, now, let's not be all formal. We're all friends here."

K. Rool, when needed, could turn up a polite facade to easier communicate with people...and mess with them.

* * *

Serving robots came in bearing drinks and food, tailored specifically in the kitchens to the personal tastes of each guest, right down to Sombra's choice of tomales in banana leaves. There were also Space Marines standing guard by the doors outside in case anything went wrong. Those marines were less insane and bloodthirsty than Gregor Clegane; which wasn't saying much.

All were now in the throne room, feating at a table, ready to discuss events...and upcoming plans.

"So, I take it you all are doing well?" K. Rool asked smoothly, letting his meat dish savor on his tongue.

"The Damn Yautja keep raiding my ammo depots, but the weapons factories are online," Bowser reported, "More than that, we're turning out shipboard plasma cannons with gyroscopic subspace sights and targeting systems."

"And we're building more defense stations and space mine fields than old Valarya!" Bowser Jr. proudly announced.

"Not to mention," Bowser went on. "That Pandora is proving to be a prime place for recruitment. Sure, a lot of those convicts are insane, but damn, do they know how to use weapons!"

"And how is Zebes going for you?" Relius asked.

Bowser shrugged, "It's a shit-hole. It's full of death, radiation, hungry Metroids and worse. It's the perfect place to raise an army. More than that, the underground Brinstar, are the perfect place to build fortresses. As it stands those forts we've build underground could last a ten year siege and an orbit bombardment for twice as long."

"And we've got a new shipment of captured Metroids for you, Mr. Mad Scientists," Bowser Jr. said to Relius.

"Interesting..." Relius gave a slight smile. The Metroids...ancient bioweapons from a civilization lost...this was always useful.

"And you, Zeal?" K. Rool turned to the blue-haired woman. "Things going well."

Zeal smirked. "Wyveria has been proving profitable. Not just a good place for minerals and plants, the wildlife there makes it superb training grounds for hunters. It helps that the large amount of human sacrifice and satanic cults in the prison system are generating massive amounts of magic energy," The Queen seemed giddy about the revelation. "The planet is a den of violence, the darkness and anger of the environment taints the living things there, which makes them act out and perpetuate the death and violence."

"I've been able to raise armies of zombies capable of complex tactics and marksmanship," her son supplied in an aloof tone.

Schala fought the urge to be sick, and spoke up. "In addition, the various monsters there are resources onto themselves, their body parts successful for crafting weapons and armor."

"Ah, yes." Zeal smiled. "And the best comes from the Elder Dragons."

'Elder Dragon' was a taxonomy on Wyveria, given to creatures of overwhelming power, to the extent they were called living natural disasters. Only the best could face them, and could be even be seen as a qualifying test to join the Queen's elite fighters...assuming they survived.

"More than that," the queen announced gleeefully, "the purple spice is helping us incubate elder dragon eggs without the presence of the mother. It's a new age in breeding war beasts!"

Zeal's daughter winced, the majestic greater dragons reduced to steeds in the future. Even more worrisome was the fact they they could be used as war beasts: A single Elder Dragon had enough power to take down a well armed legion of soldiers, and could even kill a Space Marine.

That was why K. Rool was courting Zeal and her House. Besides her appetite for cruelty and violence, her dragons, once fully mature, could give his armies the kind of numbers he needed to hold territory, not just conquer it. A sky full of dragons was a potent symbol of dominance.

"And what of the Yautja on Wyvernia?" the King inquired.

Queen Zeal's expression turned dark.

"Like moths to a flame." She stated bluntly. "They see it as the ultimate 'game reserve', hunting both soldiers and beast alike. At least they don't harass the convoys as they go from settlement to settlement."

"Well, there's that." K. Rool nodded. "And what of Mira?"

"Well," Schala began. "We managed to develop a large settlement there, and the resources regenerate rapidly...but the wildlife still proves to be highly dangerous."

Indeed, Mira was a planet noted for five large and diverse continents, each full of different beasts and hazards. From pack hunters to mammoth rampagers to high cliffs to volcanoes.

"The alien coalition, the Ganglion. were a problem at first, but now they give us a chance to test out our penal legions," Queen Zeal elaborated. "Convicts are given grenades and knives and ordered to charge Ganglion front lines. Those who survive are given a gun and a less suicidal mission. Those who survive enough missions have the chance to join my house's elite armies. Those who refuse to fight are executed."

"New Los Angeles is the main capital," Dr. Strange elaborated after his queen. "Thus far the City's industrial output is on the rise, as is the production of farmland in the fertile regions."

"Good, Good." K. Rool nodded. "Glad to hear you are all doing so well." He pressed a button nearby, allowing a holographic map of the galaxy to appear. Using a remote, he began to zoom in on his sector, then zoomed in on an arid planet.

"This is not a Death World, as it is rather standard. Ah, but it was a prime location to develop the Black Mesa Research Facility." He looked as his comrades. "You all remember was it is?"

Bowser nodded, knowing more than he let on. "A physics research facility, at least to the public. There was supposed to be heavy weapons and biological weapons research there,"

"A real Area 51 type place," Bowser Jr. quipped.

"Yes, the researchers actually live there as well." K. Rool went on. "Always researching, but they have places of leisure as well."

"Gotta Get our gambling in!" King Dice sang like he was doing a paid advertisement. "Scientists need a bit of blackjack and roulette to unwind; especially when they're fusing actual demons with war machines "

"Gambling?" Schala questioned.

"Ah, yes, the entertainment of the ages!" Dice grinned. "Why, we even have a planet that is one giant casino! Just like New Vegas!" King Dice became mostalgic. "Nothing but wasteland, then we sunk a fortune into a new casino; bigger and swankier than anywhere else." He growled, "Could have fortune without any rules or laws governing what people could bet on. Then Duke Nukem and his barbarian friends blew it all up. They didn't like the gladiator rings, too rich for their blood."

"Their loss." Bowser stated, smirking. "Always enjoy pit fights...especially when Riptor decided to fight in them." He was, of course, referring to the only female member of K. Rool's circle.

Riptor, proof that often the female of the species is the more lethal. A mix of human and saurian DNA, she combined human intellect with raptor ferocity. K Rool bought her at great expense from a shady corporation who raked in big bucks on an illegal fighting tournament they sponsored every year. Serving as a brutal enforcer and fighter, she followed K. Rool without question. She earned her place.

K. Rool smiled as he zoomed in on another planet. "Death world Stygia," he proudly announced, "Former vacation world, amazingly. That changed when a slave revolt shut down the planetary radiation shields." The screen depicted a tropical world with ruined hotels and beaches. "Now it's run amok with cannibal prison gangs, drug runners and regeneration mutants. And don't forget the man eating plants and deadly lightning storms "

"Always amazing how fast things fall apart." Sombra quipped, eyes rolling in amusement.

K. Rool laughed, "When the resort corporation declared bankruptcy, I bought the planet for a pittance. And the best part is the man eating plants can be processed to make dozens of narcotic drugs. To say nothing of the spice reserves found in the expansive cave network."

Bowser could not help but laugh. "Reminds me of a time some yahoos tried to use Pandora plants to make herbal cigars. Died from massive internal bleeding, dumb bastards!"

"Oh, my." Zeal crooned. "Some people would do anything for a fix, even if it defies all common sense."

"The addictive impulse is a powerful impulse in most thinking animals," Relius interjected clinically. "Most pleasure is irrational, but in the past, drugs, alcohol and entertainment helped secure empires as much as force of arms."

"Bread and circuses," laughed King Dice. "Vallaryan style!"

"Amen to that!" Bowser Jr. laughed, his grin wide as he spoke. "Even if it kills them all in the end."

K. Rool simply smiled and zoomed in on another Death World. This was a huge jungle. "Death World Jumanji," K. Rool said fondly, "Home of the Space Marines. And your generous contributions have greatly allowed the expansion of their ranks."

"Thank our increase of red spice," Sombra chuckled, "Jumanji is also a good place to send the craziest of the crazy."

"Oh, yes." K. Rool confirmed. "Dangers all about. Huge mosquitoes and spiders, vicious monkeys, savage lions, stampeding beasts, carnivorous flora...and those you can't even see..." He grinned like a wolf. "In the days before the Long Night, space was lawless." K. Rool exposited fondly, "back then deep space traders had something called jungle justice. If you committed a crime, you were thrown into the surface of Jumanji. If you died, it was the will of the gods."

"Then the gods must have been harsh back then." Janus snarked, a dark smile on his face.

"Exactly, my boy." K. Rool confirmed. "Few survived the infinite horrors of the jungle… and then there are some who thrive in the jungle," K. Rool went on. "The darkness feeds their rage, their rage feeds the darkness in an endless cycle. My own assassin Agent 47 survived for 9 months in the jungle with nothing but a handgun and one clip of ammunition. Killed my then current hit man, Van Pelt, but hey, that's progress for you." K. Rool shrugged.

"Indeed." Zeal noted. "And one must keep up with it at all times, or perish in the unforgiving galaxy."

"47 sabotaged Van Pelt's ammunition," Relius clarifies. "He was a better sniper, but 47 exploited his preferred killing style."

"The way of the assassin." K. Rool smirked. "Always know your opponents."

"Cheating is the most efficient way to win," Relius conceded.

K Rool pulled up a new screen, "More than that, the rings around Jumanji are proving an ideal construction ground for a new shipyard."

"More ships?" Schala questioned.

"Why, yes, my dear." K. Rool confirmed. "We must always be ready for battle against the hostile, as well as more ships for trade. Speaking of ships..." He brought up another planet. "This Death World, Xen, has proven to be useful in ship resources. Tyranid bio-ships have the potential to outnumber our navy nearly thirty to one in an ideal situation. Yatjua blockade runners and stealth ships run circles around our fighter patrols," K. Rool elaborated. "The Guild is too decentralized to regulate or rely on. What Xen offers is a low gravity environment ideal for safe and cheap ship construction as well as an environment to train for zero g and ship to ship combat."

"Not to mention it is not so much of a planet than it is a colony of distinct asteroids." Relius added.

"True, true." K. Rool nodded. "Allows is to specialize in certain parts." He brought up another planet. "LV 426, Home of history's first recorded Xenomorph attack," silence fell across the room.

The king went on, "An airless hellhole, full of thousands of kilometers of tunnel. What this world offers us more than anything is ancient technology. Every year prospectors lose their lives looking for Valaryian tech or pre long night machinery. Xenomorphs stalk the tunnels, and those who let their guard down lose their lives." He smirked. "In comparison, my favorite Death World is paradise...or not." He brought up Subnautica. "A water world, Home to an artificially created aquatic ecosystem." The King demonstrates. "Aside from deadly plagues and gigantic carnivorous sea life, the world is rich with alien ruins. Known as the Precursors they developed biological weapons ages ago in their war against the Valaryans."

"And now they're gone." Zeal stated.

"Indeed." K. Rool confirmed. "Ah, but they left us a World of bounties and resources. We even managed to build research bases in select locations. But, of course, the dangers of dangerous fauna remains...as do the depths themselves."

"The Sea Emperor in particular is a hindrance to fishing and mining operations." Relius stated, "Thousands of years old, it has resisted every effort to kill it by nearly every off world visitor. Currently we are researching the possibility of transplanting the species to other water worlds."

K. Rool nodded as he zoomed out back to the galaxy. "In deed, all our worlds, Death, Service, Civilized, and more, all serve their purposes to our people...and now, things are about to change. As things stand, the Galaxy is poised for change of the catastrophic sort." The King orated, "it's tempting to only focus on one problem at a time or problems in our own back yard but that won't be enough. As of now I am inviting you to all be part of the Inperium Galactica. A true, United Space nation with one language, one government and one law. Against us are the border Houses, like the Stark's; clinging to their rat infested stations and ancient honor."

"I'm in." Bowser confirmed.

"As am I." Zeal added. "But do tell me what is your plan with Lord Stark."

"Why, make him my Hand, of course." K. Rool grinned.

Schala felt ill as she raised hands with her mother. The King was ruthless and his servants more than. But what choice did they have?

The feudal nature of the galaxy meant that pirates, plagues and invasions could go unchecked for years. The galaxy only united against Hive Fleet Gorgon when the old king threatened his space marines upon the noble houses.

Without unity the Hive Fleet had consumed more worlds and armies than it could have.

The kings' plan was the only way forward, to a secure, safe galaxy for decent people

Then Bowser spoke up. "You wanna make Stark your hand? Why?" He looked very confused at this. K. Rool did not like the Starks, so why offer this?

"Do you know anything about wolf hunting?" asked K. Rool in a most sadistic voice

"Well, all types of known wolves do tend to hunt in packs, never alone." Bowser Jr. stated. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything." K. Rool chuckled. "Together the pack thrives...alone, they are easy pickings."

"Desert wolves on New Vegas can bring down death claws," Relius explained. "On Jumanji wolves fear old lion prides. The preferred method is Ariel hunting. In a more literal sense, this position would isolate Ned Stark from his best advisors and bodyguards. Not to mention throw his family into turmoil before his son Robb can finish his training."

"Robb Stark." Zeal smirked. "Met him once. Stupid boy. Always trying to live up the ideal of honors. But the Galaxy as a whole does not allow for such simpering. You have to do whatever it takes to survive."

"Don't underestimate the boy," said King Dice with uncharacteristic hate in his voice. "He's as straight as an arrow and strong as the bow that fired it. If you want to beat him or his dad, you can't do it in a straight fight."

"Indeed." K. Rool said. "We must be patient, unstained how they all tick before we can strike. Recklessly charging in will get us nowhere." The Kings expression grew angry, "The worst possible outcome would be if Winterfell and their bannermen declares independence. As much as I desire a unified nation state, so does Ned Stark and his father before him. We could be looking at a kingdom with two capitals. Two Kings. King in the North and the Imperium King."

"A nation divided." Zeal noted, sipping some wine. "That'll cause issues."

"Indeed." K. Rool noted. "But I have been taking some steps to ensure unity under my rule. I have been communicating with the Guild...and as matter of fact..."

It was that moment Mr. Dark, the cloaked wizard of the court, came teleporting in. "Your Grace, a Guild Trade ship, carrying representatives, in approaching, as you had hoped."

"I love Treasure Knight," said Sombra, hacking into the docking records. "The Iron Whale is the best stealth ship in the galaxy. And he's been rejected for years to join the Guilds ruling council."

"Because he likes to hoard a bit too much for himself." Bowser said in a deadpan tone.

K. Rool ignored them as he spoke to Dark. "Make sure they come here once ready."

On cue, a large figure in deep space diving armour stomped into the throne room, trailed by a couple of robotic bodyguards.

The large figure began to speak in Morse code or something until he adjusted the knobs on his suit

"You summoned us?" Treasure Knight asked.

"I did, yes." K. Rool confirmed. "Is it only you for now?"

"It's an honor, your majesty," said Treasure Knight, "I'm here answering your call when I could be mining precious stones, shipping radioactive fuel or stripping wrecked ships."

"After today, you'll have a brighter future than being the Guilds underpaid enforcement agent" said K. Rool. "I know you were attacked by Skaven stealth fighters on your way here. I'll happily pay for repairs."

"Good to hear. More than that fool Tamatoa will pay." Treasure Knight replied as he took a seat of his own, his armored frame hiding his true body.

"We can imagine your surprise when you found out Tamatoa had been looting your safe houses and blaming it on pirates." King Dice said coyly.

"Revenge was my true price," Treasure knight admitted, shaking with rage in his armor. "Besides, you'll need my help nationalizing the Guild. I know the captains and I helped set up the Guild Credit Union and Bank."

"Not to mention many of those in the Guild wish to increase their power base as well." K. Rool added.

"True." Treasure Knight thought of Roodaka, a Vortex and one of the highest ranking members of the Guild. Her species was a female dominated race, coming form the Industry World Xia, a world dedicated to weapon manufacture. It was Roodaka who vouched for Treasure Knight to become a captain. Before that he broke his back with deep space salvage and mercenary work that paid pennies.

Roodaka was good and one of the few that Treasure Knight would call friend. She never took easy jobs, wasn't afraid to take risks and knew how to gamble wisely. Not to mention her connections on Xia guaranteed access to weapons from interplanetary siege guns to personal hunting weapons.

And very few could actually call Roodaka a 'friend': Underneath that usually pleasant attitude was a vicious and sadistic manipulator who only respected those who had what it took to survive in a harsh, unforgiving galaxy. And those who did not earn her respect...well, she liked to use her spinner to mutate people for fun.

It was one of her trade secrets. She'd long ago figured out how to use radiation to mutate humans into ghouls, like those found on New Vegas. And she'd even synthesized the Forced Evolutionary virus to create giant insects, super mutants and worse.

Rumors abounded that she'd even learned or stolen dark magic from the Skaven,

Indeed, her dark and backstabbing nature is what allowed her to climb the ranks of the Guild, often a dog-eat-dog organization.

And maybe that was part of the larger problem. For years the Guild had made money hand over fist by passing all risk and responsibilities to their captains; letting them enjoy business from noble houses, commoners and criminals alike.

But the rise of Tamatoa was proof of the rot. He got rich not by being a good captain but by killing anyone who stood in his way and take over guild leadership.

Now more and more captains were trying to join the inner circle instead of ship, work and earn.

But that was not of K. Rool's concern right now.

"As you are all aware, I seek to build unifying rule." He spoke to Treasure Knight. "But the Starks have the possibility of doing the same, leaving the galaxy divided with two kings. And the the Starks are quite popular with several houses, I might add."

"While the Stark's don't have any sizeable military fleet, they do have a large merchant navy which has allowed them the money and resources to field an army larger than normal for a house their size," Relius elaborated . "It started when the late Lord Rickon established merchant jobs for retired soldiers and pilots after the Rage wars of his youth. His son Ned only expanded the program after the Hive Fleet Gorgon war."

"Not to mention all the Death Worlds they posses, training amplitude of powerful soldiers, like those Lizardmen of Lustria. Dangerous creatures right there." He chuckled. "Tear your limb from limb with their bare claws if they can."

"We are aware of Ned Stark's progress." Treasure Knight said dryly. "But I did not simply come to speak of Ned."

"The Starks have the fleet and the army," said King R. Rool. "But House Dreemur has pioneered new methods of interhouse cooperation. They've taken over food production in the sector and showed small communities and nomadic space based cultures better ways to farm. It's only because of their influence that the Stark Merchant navy can reach as far and wide as it can."

"And as dangerous the Gourmet World is," Treasure Knight added. "The flora and fauna there are the best sources of food in the galaxy. We cannot risk losing it. The same with House Nui, with their skill in technological advancements and renewable energy sources."

"Both these houses have resources that House Stark could utilize in an independent move. House Nui is notoriously politically neutral, but their desire for peace may mean they side with the Starks," K. Rool explained. "Killing Ned Stark in isolation would only galvanize them into action against us. The real end goal is to take out Ned Stark and all of the pawns who support him; it's the felling of a mighty tree, not the snapping of a twig."

"Roodaka is our best bet to allying ourselves with House Nui," Relius elaborated, "She is one of the claimants to the throne in case the current leadership is disposed of."

"Aye, but first you must show her you are worthy of her time." Treasure Knight replied. "But if you do, she will be happy to aid you...unlike that bumbling bear, Moneybags." Treasure knight seethed. "The bear who thought it would be a good idea to bring on Euron Grayjoy as security because he charged less. The trail of destruction he left behind was too big and bloody for even the guild to hide from. In the end, I had to kill Euron without any extra compensation."

At least, Euron was THOUGHT to be dead, but the truth was his body was never found after the fire fight. But assuming no one could survive such a fearsome attack, well, they decided to write him off as dead.

Treasure Knight had used a lot of explosives, but no body was ever recovered from the wreckage of Euron's ship. "To move Moneybags, you'll need cash; he'll work for the highest bidder without any regard to long term gain or loyalty."

"Oh he'll give us a discount when I send Ser Clegane to have a talk with him," K. Rool chuckled. "And if that doesn't work, Agent 47 can be very persuasive."

"I'm sure they will be." Treasure Knight chuckled. "Any other business you wish to discuss?"

"I just wanted to let you know that once everything goes forward, the Guild will have a monopoly on all civilian space travel. My Space Marines will maintain their own navy, but everyone else will go through your organization," K. Rool promised. "Does this suit you?"

Treasure Knight nodded as he stood up. "That sounds quite fair. Thank you for your time." He turned to go and took a few steps before he stopped. "Oh, I believe I should mention some...rumors some trade ships have been muttering about."

"Rumors?" K. Rool questioned.

"Something about a great golden dragon, with three heads and hideous cackle." Treasure Knight replied.

Relius elaborated, "Another so called Kaiju. The search for safer shipping lanes increasingly takes ships through their territory. It will be dealt with."

The look of anger on K Rool's face said a different story .

Those types of creatures...no one really were sure what they were. Apparently some theories portrayed them as some god-like beings, of even savage nature given form.

Relius had a theory that Kaiju were in fact living fossils, creatures who'd gone from being living beings to living nuclear reactors. That some animal somewhere had gone to a naturally occurring nuclear reactor and had its DNA wiped clean by high radiation, only to be brought back as heavy metals and other substances replaced the fragile carbon based DNA and other structures.

Spice, in his mind, was the key, that allowed an organism to go from simple chemical reactions to advanced nuclear or even anti-matter annihilation based reactions; like so called King Ghidorah.

It was a theory of course, but it helped to explain why so many Kaiju had vast stockpiles at the hart of their territory.

But for now, they keep an eye for things...and make sure they didn't get too involved with the conflict.

"I'll take my leave then." Treasure Knight turned, and he was soon gone from the room.  
"As you can see, we have everything to gain and even more to lose," K. Rool explained in a solemn tone. "As it stands now, our nation is a house divided. Every day, monsters from space who once prowled the edges of the star maps are now eating their way to the center. Corporate powerhouses shirk their taxes and responsibilities to national defense. What we do will be remembered even after the Long night and the Valaryans are long forgotten. This is the birth of a nation!"

All gathered raised this cups in toast to this claim.

The King turned to Relius, "My guests deserve some entertainment. Bring out Riptor and a few fresh victims."

Bowser grinned at the prospect.

As if one cue, the group got out of their seats and walked out the throne room.

The arena awaited.

* * *

Riptor roared and shredded a practice dummy with her fore claws. Actually the "dummy" was a starving hunting dog that came up to most human's shoulders.

The dog with jaws the size of an alligator's whimpered as Riptor tore its guts out. the human dinosaur hybrid finished by tearing the dog's head off with her teeth.

Riptor spat it away and looked to the arena gates. She liked the gladiator arena because it gave her room to show her stuff. Clegane was brutal, but he lacked the creativity and sadism that Riptor brought to the table.

And the arena...oh, yes, it brought many to it, all willing to see both exotic dangerous animals and the bloodsports that resulted. K. Rool had game hosted today, and not only were some foolish prisoners 'participating', but very strong beasts were in for today.

The Arena was another crucial part of K. Rool's future fascist state. It would entertain the nobles and commoners alike, and show people what happens to slaves, the underclasses and prisoners of war.

Riptor was used to this, to Ultratech's old tournament. This promised to be entertaining. Supposedly there would be rat ogres here, captured Lizardmen and even a Yautja Bad Blood. And maybe even disgraced individuals who had joined in one last grab for glory.

Only time would tell, and the crowd began to gather,

Each gladiator event was huge. Tickets cost a fortune and live streaming wasn't cheap either. To say nothing of how much the betting brought in.

For the gladiator wearing a kraken like mask. this was exactly where he wanted to be.

He observed the surrounding audience, all cheering and ready to see the blood spill, and how creatively people would die today.

The arena featured gravity catapults which could either propel a gladiator to one of the arenas higher floors or splatter them if they got the angle wrong.

Trap doors in the sand could unleash dangerous beasts or robotic killing machines.

Armed with his axe, the kraken warrior was eager to face the famous Riptor.

Up in the deluxe balcony, K. Rool, his circle, and all his guests were sitting, having the best seat in the house.

Then, a Kremling announcer began to speak, his voice broadcasted throughout the area.

"Ladies and lords, this is the Arena! Provided by none other than your generous King K. Rool! Tonight we have an excellent selection of death row inmates and ferocious monsters!"

The kraken smiled under his mask.

"And here we have a special guest, known as the 'Kraken'!" The Kremling went on as he began to highlight the event. "He will be just one of the many fighters today, taking on both dangerous races and savage beasties!"

Kraken smiled. Unlike many others, he was here voluntarily. When enough people were dead, he would claim his true prize.

The announcer went in, "Also in is the notorious Yautja Bad Blood , Scar!"

Wrapped in chains, the tall Yautja with worn out equipment and brutal scars was unreadable, and yet, hatred was in its posture. Once loose, it would murder the closest thing to it. Only time was needed...

"And in the next corner, a full-grown Kroxigor!" All eyes turned at the hulking Lizardman.

The Kroxigor glanced around with dull golden eyes. Its crocodile like jaws gaping to regulate its cold blooded body temperature. Towering above even the Yautja bad blood, the Lizardmen used muscular beasts like this as both construction equipment and line breaking military units.

Dragging behind the Kroxigor was a massive bronzium hammer, chained to its waist. in a moment, it would remember that hammer and use it. Until then, it simply glared at its surroundings...the roar of the crowd pounded in its head.

The Kroxigor would be relatively docile until attacked, unlike the Rat ogres.

Three of the beasts captured or left over from Skaven invasions, each one was meaner, uglier and smellier than the last. The three mutated Skaven snarled and pulled at their chains, their cybernetic weapons temporarily offline. One wielded a flame thrower, the other chainsaws for hands and the last with a warp lighning cannon build into its right arm.

"And now that we see our fighters, let's meet the beasties!" Cages were revealed, each contained large animals.

"First off is the Galala Gator!" A huge reptilian beast, 18 meters long and 13 tons, with eight legs, red skin, and an enormous mouth a razor-sharp teeth.

"Hailing from the world of Ark, the Gigantopithicus!" the large, ape like creature howled with rage as the shock collar it wore went into overdrive, getting it ready for the fight.

"This bad boy can be your fibre gathering, helmet wearing, human tossing buddy for life it if survives the fight!" the announcer laughed.

Haughty laughter could be heard from the stands as well as the announcer went on. "In addition, hailing from the icy regions in Wyveria, a Barioth!"

A large, white create, resembling a cross between a wyvern and a sabretooth, these were feared creatures when one with the tundra regions of Wyveria, and were only hunted by experts.

"And last but not least, a Dragon Ogre Shaggoth! Over one hundred thousand years old, the number of lives it ended in this century alone is incalculable!"

The huge monster, part dragon and with a humanoid upper body roared, lightning crackling down its throat and in its eyes. The enormous monster cradled a heavy hammer style weapon, hinting that it was more intelligent than its bestial appearance let on.

"And now that our contestants our ready, who's ready for some bloodshed?!"

The roar of approval was deafening...especially to Schala, who found the whole thing depraved. More than that, Schala was ashamed of her mother, looking upon the ensuing carnage with positive glee in her eyes. One day there'd be no need for these games, the crown would have other sources of revenue.

But for now, all the chains dropped in the arena and the madness began. The Kraken masked man roared with rage and pleasure as he took his axe and charged at the nearest Rat ogre; Euron Greyjoy was in his element.

Yes, he had survived, of course, thanks to quick thinking and a swift escape pod. He found himself facing K. Rool, but the two actually got along quite well and came to an...agreement of sorts.

K. Rool's proposition was simple. Euron had cost the crown a great deal of money and generally messed with people who were politically connected. He had to survive in the gladiator pits for one year to earn his freedom and a place in the Royal Navy.

To Euron it was more than a fair deal. It was another golden chance. People back home talked about the old days when the Ironborn raided up and down the galaxy. That was well and fine, but Euron actually lived the old ways.

And for now, he had a Rat Ogre to kill.

The one with the chainsaw looked at him hatefully, revving up the weapon, ready to gruesomely dismember him. But Euron was not ready to die just today. No...he was going to kill this fucker.

He dodged out of the of one swing, sneering under his helm, and he lunged forward, slicing the leg of the ogre.

Euron's axe struck the thing in the knee, hobbling the Rat ogre but not downing it. The Rat ogre swung its chainsaw arms wide, slashing at one of its brethren.

Euron screamed and swung his axe again, chopping off the rat ogre's head. Except it kept going, powered by an onboard computer and a secondary brain. The thing began blindly swinging its chainsaws, heading right for the Wyvern.

The Barioth, though, was no easy target. With amazing agility, it dodged the attack and swung back around, using its long teeth and claws to rend its foe into bloody bits, all while coughing up ice projectiles about the area.

The Bad Blood, Scar, surveyed the battlefield with infrared vision. The Barioth in particular was the greatest prey, the greatest threat and also the source of his greatest weakness. His kind were jungle creatures, Yautja could survive poison, high gravity, low oxygen or gunshots but cold was their main weakness.

Sprinting to evade the ice crystals, Scar looked at the weapon the arean had given him; a knife barely fit to cut bread. It would have to be enough.

The Barioth had brought down the Ogre and noticed Scar approaching fast. Growling with dark intent in its eyes, it got into position, clawing at the ground.

Scar braced for the charge as he saw the Kroxigor wrestle tooth and claw with the gigantopithicus and EuronhHack away at the legs of the Dragon Ogre Shaggoth.

The Barioth sprinted and Scar waited until the last possible second, finally using his powerful legs to leap right onto the monster's head and hold on for dear life.

Naturally the the beast was none to pleased with this at all, and began to thrash wildly about as Scar began to stab over and over again the thick hide of the best, pricing the scales...

...and then both were abruptly sent sprawling by the top half of an rat ogre, said beast being gruesomely bisected and tossed about by the jaws of the Galala Gator.

Janus watched this all with a very deadpan expression. Truth be told, the young boy did not care much for these bloodsports either...

Janus's first real friend had been a cat, due to him being an introverted boy. No doubt the gladiators were scum, the Bad Blood Yautja having killed women and unarmed civilians. Euron's crimes were uncountable. But he felt for the creatures who had no choice in being brought to die.

Down below in the sand the Barioth slammed into the Dragon Ogre, which was swiping its weapon at the Rat Ogre spraying it with warp lightning.

The whole of them collapsed into a heap, with Scar picking himself up first, ready to rip and tear and fool who got in his way.

The Dragon Ogre Shaggoth had thrown down its hammer and was grappling the Galala Gator with bare hands. It gouged our the gator's eyes before crushing the skull with brute strength.

Against such foes, Scar needed a better weapon. He ran to the chainsaw rat, somehow still alive and knocked it over. Smashing bones with his fists, he took hold of one of the chainsaw hands and ripped it right off  
Revving up the weapon from the dying body, it charged into the fray once more, this time rushing the Gigantopithicus, slicing into its legs.

Bellowing with rage and pain, the creature staggered, crippled by such a fearsome blow.

Scar was merciless, swinging his new chainsaw down into the gigantopithicus's mouth. The saw ran through bone and sliced the top of the apes head off.

"Now that's impressive!" Gushed Queen Zeal.

Meanwhile, Euron faced the wounded and enraged Kroxigore. He danced out away from its hammer like a ballerina and swung his axe like a bastard maniac

It wouldn't be easy. The Lizardman had a thick hide, and even if disarmed, he would have enough strength to tear Euron easily into pieces.

Not helped by the Barioth prowling the area.

Euron's axe made sparks on the Kroxigor's thick scales. Suddenly it lunged forward and clamped it's haws around his axe handle, snapping it in two.

He glanced around. The Barioth was getting ready for a second charge and there was one last rat ogre with a flame thrower. Then he saw a dead one, one with a warp lightning cannon and he got an idea

Waiting until the very last, he dove out of the way, leaving the Barioth charging into the Kroxigor. As the two brawled, Euron kept moving, heading towards the cannon.

Dragon Ogre Shaggoth's were the oldest members of their race. Even a junior Dragon Ogre was thousands of years old and could wipe out entire armies or tear apart a bunker with its fists. But Euron had a way with Skaven tech.

He ran to the Rat ogre and started ripping apart and putting back together the wires in the thing's exposed skull. He was always good with mechanical engineering, it had saved his life as often as his axe.

Raising the monster's gun, he took as aim best he could at the enraged Dragon Ogre.

The ogre noticed him, and charged at him...

...just as Euron fired, right though the midsection of the beast, blowing it into bloody pieces.

Euron fell back as the warp lightning cannon fired a thousand shots worth of energy in just one.

The cannon vented radiation and plasma, Euron scrambled away to avoid glowing in the dark from radiation poisoning.

The crowd screamed with delight at the pyrotechnics; a huge hole blown in the Arena floor.

And now...things were about get intense.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, entering the fray now, our finest fighting machine, bred to be the perfect killer...RIPTOR!"

The roar of approval was enormous.

Euron knew the tricks of the Arena. Send in the valuable fighter last when everyone else was exhausted.

Fine by him, he lived for a challenge. He feared radiation from the destroyed warp lightning cannon more than he feared Riptors claws.

There was only a moment before Riptor charges at the Barioth.

The large Wyvern turned to her and spat ice...but she leapt deftly over it and latched onto its back, clawing fiercely at it. It thrashed in pain, rearing upwards...allowing Riptor to jump down and drag her foot claw along the belly, spilling blood and guts.

The Barioth went down, dying but still dangerous as it spat out ice and frost.

Riptor leaped at Scar, who lunged out of the way. His chainsaw passed over her head, just scratching her crest feathers.

The two born killers faced each other, snarling in fury as the Barioth finally collapsed into a heap, as Euron stood nearby, ready for anything,.

Euron knew that his unpowered armor would only last so long with either fighter. The dead Rat Ogre still had one chainsaw arm left.

Then he looked at the gravity catapults and got an idea.

Crazy, yes, but very workable...all he needed was the right moment.

The air was fill of electricity from the body of the Dragon Ogre Shaggoth. Even dead it still held as much power as a nuclear reactor.

Riptor jumped onto a gravity catapult and Scar gave chase. Euron jumped into the gravity catapult, but began to strip his metal armor as he did.

K. Rool watched from his balcony with intrigue...Euron was up to something...and like always, hard to say what it was.

Euron presented himself as a brute, as unthinking as Clegane. K. Rool however knew that Euron his an unpredictable streak beneath a savage exterior.

Riptor slashes at Scar. Fatal on a human, but the Yautja would be able to fight for hours through it. When Riptor's claws broke the chain on his chainsaw, Scar gave her a slash with his own sharp claws.,

Euron had reached the height of the gravity catapults and was preparing to bounce downwards at the dead Dragon Ogre. This was going to be hairy, and he knew deep down he would only get Scar...but maybe that was the whole idea. K. Rool wanted both him and Riptor to survive this.

Euron flew downwards on the reverse catapult, thrusting his chainsaw forward, he hurled it at the dead Dragon Ogre and used air currents to shift out of the path of the beam.

The Ironborn man slammed into the sand of the arena as the chainsaw struck the dead monster near where its primary heart would be.

The reaction was instantaneous. The electricity travelled up the chainsaw and detonated the nuclear reactor inside. The electromagnetic energy formed a powerful burst that exploded each and every one of the gravity catapults like a land mine. Concussive force and electric power spread through the arena and terrified the crowd.

Riptor was thrown unconscious, but Scar who'd been covered in bits of metal armor was fried like a bug.

And as such, only two remained in the blood stained arena, with body parts sprayed all about in the pit. A brutal fight to the end...and now K. Rool raised his hand.

"Citizens, people of the arena, I give you, your champion!" the King crowed, "Euron Greyjoy, Kraken of the bloody sands, is your new champion! come and claim your freedom!"

Euron stood up, feeling less than satisfied. He might never get another chance to kill Riptor, so in the future he'd just had to make another chance. For now, he was a free man and he'd fulfilled his end of the agreement with K. Rool.

And for all his faults, K. Rool fully intended to honor his agreement: It would be bad to backstab EVERYONE, and he admired those with extreme ruthlessness, like Euron here.

Euron, of course, knew this, and looked up at the king with a wild grin.

"I live to serve my king!" Euron announced dramatically, kneeling on the sands of the arena. Armed Space Aarines moved in to apprehend him as well as transport Riptor to the infirmary.

K. Rool turned to Relius, "Give Euron a meal and some comfort women in King Dice's brothel. After that, put him to work with the Navy. We need to start reorganizing the admiralty as soon as possible. I can trust Euron to cut away the dead weight and admirals who don't pull their weight."

Relius nodded as the Marines helped Euron and took him to get ready for his new job as people filed out the arena stands. Another game of satisfaction.

K. Rool regarded Schala. "Is everything alright, dear?" he asked with mock sweetness.

Schala, who was pale as a ghost, turned to him and mustered up a smile. "Oh, it's nothing, just feeling a stomachache..." She lied in a way.

The King smiled, maybe even sincerely. "Child, you don't have to lie. I watched my father be beaten to death by his brother when I was younger than you. Just remember that all of this is justified."

This did nothing to mollify Schala, she merely gulped and nodded at the man who had so completely embraced and internalized cruelty and evil. "Yes, your highness, thank you." Taking Janus by the hand, she swiftly left, wanting to be away from...all of it.

Janus squeezed his sister's hand, his logical, scientific worldview reeling from the raw cruelty of the King's rule. He wondered if indeed a nation build by the likes of Euron, Riptor and Relius could be one that survived. Or if it should be one that survived…


	4. Sea of Blood

(Same Drill for ownership...)

Death World Subnautica...Seabase X...

A rather large sea base in the bottom of the sea, drawing power from nearby geothermal vents. Usually a research station, it was also the staring point of military recruits, commanded by Pridak...

Pridak, his experience as an aquatic organism made him perfect for building both underwater habitats and space stations. While he had a great deal of experience in siege warfare and building fortifications in planets and in space, Pridak's cruelty and his hunger for conquest were his strongest defining traits.

Worse yet, he was a deeply emotional creature; able to hold a grudge for eternity and wildly swinging between lavishing rich rewards and brutal, painful violence.

He had been known for executing a 100 man squad simply because three of them were trying to go AWOL. Make an example of the squad to show he would NOT tolerate any dissent. Brutal, ruthless, but intelligent, he was the military commander for a reason.

And for now, he was looking out the window into the abyss, lost in his thoughts.

The arena, showed on a nearby screen, remained loud as repair robots and lobotomized slaves moved to fix the destroyed fighting pit while the dozens of broadcasters in every language gave a blow by blow replay of the day's fights; hyping up the match and the matches to follow.

What the King needed now was to reassure his kingdom and its subjects in the face of the coming alien threats.

All the while, Pridak would be helping with that by training an army to help combat the threat of encroaching hostile aliens...and at the same time, eventually overtake any rebel houses.

And that was the crux of the problem. As well armed and motivated as the Galactic North was, they lacked the manpower or resources to rule the entirety of the galaxy. Their population was united by a shared culture and the worship of the old gods, but their territory was so vast they couldn't really afford to play conqueror in the long term.

By the same token, the North was so full of environmental and navigational hazards that it would be a nightmare for an occupying space force and ground army to take. Singularities, quasars, dense nebulae and more. To say nothing of the millions of space mines that Ned Stark had been building up near possible extra-galactic invasion routes.

As such, not only did Pridak need to build up a varied army, he needed to wait until things were more destabilized over there. K. Rool was taking care of that part as they waited...but for now, things had to proceed slowly...

As it stood now, Pridak was working on the most ambitious defense plan in galactic history. His goal was to build up hundreds of space mine fields, gravity traps and magnetic anti-matter charges around the core worlds; K. Rool's main holdings and those of his closest allies.

Huge space borne fortresses could be towed and moved to watch over key choke points in the space lanes or guard strategic planets.

Above all, Pridak would be collaborating with Treasure Knight to identify and guard key stockpiles of spice; which were crucial for everything from space folding of starships to the making of space marines, advanced medical healing and the boosted growth of crops depending on the type.  
Now, he was overseeing some specialized recruits designed for amphibious training. Often their job was to try and survive this world, by gathering the resources they could and dealing both with great depths and savage beasts-The kind that were either huge and powerful, or the kind great at ambushing.

Water planets like Subnautica were often overlooked by the public for their strategic importance. Those deep waters which held the deadliest sea monsters were often super saturated with heavy and light metals. The sea water itself was broken down for oxygen and fuel for Star Fighters.

Without Subnautica and a hundred other ocean worlds providing fuel, the Star Fighter corps of the galaxy would grind to a halt and leave the big dreadnoughts and super heavy cruisers vulnerable.

And now Pridak was getting a little...edgy. He needed to go and kill something today.

Turning away from the window, he made his way through the halls of the base, brushing past the researchers stationed there as well.

Pridak observed the containment pen, where the juvenile Sea Emperor was growing. Tamed with Purple spice, the monster was already large enough to devour humans like popcorn. It was too valuable to attack, though Pridak relished the chance to kill something that large and deadly when full grown.

The ancient aquatic biomechanoid glanced at a Mosasaurus imported from Ark; a useful mount but inexpensive to grow, raise and tame. That would satisfy his bloodlust for now.

The Sea Emperors, yes, useful for...medical purposes, mostly. And now they were breeding this once rare species quite well.

These younger specimens were a viable and abundant source of Enzyme 42. A substance capable of not only curing the lethal Carar Bacterium, but also reversing the damage caused by Tyranid virus strains and Skaven biological weapons.

Once almost extinct, the species were now put to good use serving the empire. Purple spice allowed them to be controlled and prevented them from using their considerable telepathy against Pridak and his crews.

And made them little more vicous than usual, more than mere plankton eaters...

But enough of that now. He dove into the pool with the Mosasaurus. He knew this one. It was wild and unruly, and seemingly unable to be tamed.

Good for killing practice.

This Mosasaurus was a problem animal. The male in the tank had proven exceptionally predatory and violent. It wasn't rare or valuable enough to justify purple spice and it had only grown more violent with captivity.

For a time it paid for itself by being allowed to breed with females, but now it had begun attacking and eating the juvenile Mosasaurus. This was killing two birds with one stone as Pridak swam with his limbs extended, the monster before him opening its jaws wide.

Pridak was natural born killer. His teeth were exceedingly sharp, and his blade was made out of countless shark teeth, perfect for ripping through flesh like a hot knife through butter.

His agility and strength in the water were what he gained following his mutation. Once he had been handsome for a biomechanical being, some almost considering him 'bishōnen'. Then, during an expedition, he was exposed to a mutagenic substance by accident, mutating him into his current hideous form. A huge blow to his pride.

He powered through the water, evading the Mosasaurus' jaws. Slashing out with razor sharp claws, he tore open deep gashes and turned the water red. The rabid monster however ignored the wounds. Which was fine by Pridak.

The loss of his pride had been the start of a downward spiral. As it stood, he was arguably K. Rool's least loyal lieutenant, which was saying something. However, he couldn't turn down what the mad King was offering; his only chance to take the throne of House Nui.

His rage was focused as he thought on House Nui. A diverse house, they were responsible for much of technological and biological advancement in the galaxy. They even set up Biological Space Laborites in orbit around various Death Worlds they owned for controlled studies.

Pridak dodged out of the way of the Mosasaurus' attack, avoiding the beast's powerful hind limbs as it swam past him; the monster's strength able to snap him in two if it landed.

House Nui was positively ancient, they were old long before the Long Night. When the galaxy had stagnated culturally or technologically, Nui had paved the way to the future before retreating back into isolationism. They'd been at the technological revolution, which transitioned from sub light ships with cyro-stasis crews to faster than light vessels and eventually the space folding spice powered ships that dominated space travel today.

He made more cuts along the body of the beast, the water tuning red as he did.

As it stood now, the House's lead scientist was Ciel, a human female who'd despite her youth, was an exceptionally brilliant individual in numerous fields of science...to the point some would call her even smarter than Relius.

The Mosasaurus grew more aggressive, more frenzied, its attacking becoming more and more erratic. A lesser fighter wouldn't have known how to fight an opponent with no self preservation, but Pridak had much experience with that.

Ciel was good. The leader of the House Mata Nui had chosen her for her brilliance and her kind heart. And that really rankled Pridak. The universe was cruel, the beings who lived in it were cruel. He embraced that, and he knew the rejection of that would be the downfall of House Nui.

And with that in mind, he dove down the throat of the replied, tearing right through the insides, including the heart. A bloody, nasty finish.

Once he took over, he would not kill Ciel. Oh, no. He did like that pretty face...it would make raping her over and over again all he more pleasurable.

The dead Mosasaurus sank to the bottom of the tank. It hadn't even hit the bottom when carnivorous fish, Megapiranha, started devouring the carcass. It was cheaper than having underwater robots do the cleaning and they made excellent guards in the extended water system.

Deadly in groups, Pridak had gone out of his way to tame the carnivorous fish; using a mix of rewards and merciless beatings and even death.

His model of reward and brutal death would also work well as a political style.

Always making sure the peons beneath him were always doing what they were told, in order to evade mutilation...or worse. Indeed, despite his calm facade, everyone knew better than to enrage Pridak.

And now, he found himself thinking on forcing himself on Ciel.

Agent 47 blindsided his enemies, kililng them with often nothing but a fibre cable. Euron Grayjoy spaced his enemies and Gregor Clegane tore them limb from limb. With competition like that, Pridak needed to do something to stay noticed, stay ahead of the pack.

But Ciel, it wasn't about the sex. He wasn't like the lecher, King Dice. Sexual assault was one of the most assured ways of holding power over someone; particularly as innocent and kind as Ciel. He'd give anything to rob her of the ability to smile or love, before violently crushing her skull

Well, as he thought, not the first time, or event he 50th time...only when she was scarred beyond belief would he put her out of her misery...brutally.

But for now, more immediate matters. He walked into the main control room of the lab, where several Kremlings were working. He approached one of them. "Two weeks ago, 500 potential recruits were dropped into the extremely dangerous zones of this planet as part of their training. Status update?"

The Kremling accessed the computer readouts, nervous about the blood and chunks of flesh stuck to Pridak's frame. "So far my lord, the group's numbers have been whittled down to exactly 247. A number of recruits have banded together and are building aquatic habitats near the hunting grounds of the alpha predators in the oceans. They number at forty percent while the rest have gone alone to set up habitats in safer waters."

Pridak nodded calmly, taking in this information. He would reward the more daring ones soon...and have a little 'chat' with the others later. Hardly any room for such weaklings in the army. Not prime Marine resources.

"You did well. Continue to monitor. One more week before we gather them up." That ought to give them all time to weed out the weaker ones and leave only the best of the best.

Risk and reward, safety and caution were for merchants. A soldier needed an all or nothing attitude. They had to be able to risk everything and understand that a single slip could undo months or years of gains.

He regarded the view screens as a band of former criminals were working together to bring down a Ghost Leviathan; second largest aggressive creature on the planet. Pridak approved, according to notes, this group were a mix of professional criminals, hardened murderers and disgraced war veterans. They were looking promising. Sure, a few got eaten or killed in some other ways, but to Pridak, that was just showing how the system worked.

Pridak turned to the Kremling, "Have a new shipment of prisoners sent in next month. Select from the triple super-max prisons and select for violence and intelligence in prisoners."

The Kremling bowed. "Yes my lord,"

Pridark sneered at his underling, "And make sure that the Sarcosuchus from Ark are ready for then. The candidates need to learn to adapt to fight aquatic creatures that can travel on land."

Another nod, and Pridak walked out of the control room. Thing were going well, it seemed. But still, best not to drop their guard yet.

His thoughts turned to another military House, the Lee's, led by the Grand Marshal Braev Lee.

...Braev Lee. Bravely. How very droll.

He was a man of commitment and forwardness, always leading from the front. His elite soldiers came from Skyrim. Not a 'Death World' per say, but still quite tough to live on.

Skyrim was a tough place, but its warrior population came as a result of culture rather than simple environment. Cold and harsh, the native Nords valued strength and martial honor. They chose freely to become warriors and fighters; with every random farmer and tradesman on the planet at least devoting part of their lives learning how to fight and defend their homeland.

Braev Lee was chosen on Skyrim by the Kingsmoot upon the death of the last high King. A civil war on the planet and a Xenomorph invasion gave him a chance to prove his strength and leadership, cementing his rule.

Then there was his adopted daughter Tiny Tina. Pridak felt the bomb scars around his arm and rage consumed his heart.

Tina...a loudmouthed, crazed brat of a human who was orphaned in a terrorist attack and managed to escape experimentation that took her parents lives. She survived by going...'cuckoo' and would have stayed that way if not for Braev, who took in her in, and alongside his wife, Mahzer, and his daughter, Edea, raised her lovingly.

That little bitch had come closer to ending Pridak than anyone else had in centuries. All because of an exploding rubber ducky of all things.

As it stood Mahzer was giving Tiny a proper, classical education and rumor had it that Braev was grooming Tina to be a general or a military leader when she grew old enough.

Then there was her little friend Eilonwy.

A young girl of noble house who had cut ties with them and trained to be a warrior mage in her own right. A skilled archer capable of enhancing arrows with magic, she was already a force to be reckoned with...and paired with her snarky, feisty attitude, Eilonwy was no frail flower.

And speaking of toughness, Alternis Dim, the Dark Knight, came to mind. A orphan found in the sewers of some fancy city, he too was taken in by the Lee's, and with proper training, became one of THE deadliest fighters in the galaxy, tempered by his code of honor.

Alternis Dim was oficially Braev's Housecarl; his right hand man, his bodyguard and the man who the High King of Skyrim trusted more than any other. He has a hard man who'd helped to pioneer the taming of the native trolls and broker a peace accord with the dragons who'd once terrorized the planet for so long. he was a solid man.

Less solid but no less deadly was Gaston, a loud mouth braggart whose oficial position within the Hous Lee seemed to be Braev's drinking buddy. With the looks of a storybook hero, an exemplary sniper record and the ability to drink a space marine under the table, Gaston had helped House Lee build a lethal and effective sniper school.

But though he LOOKED like a storybook hero, his personality left much to be desired. A boastful, arrogant, boorish, sexist, ignorant pig, Gaston may had admiration from much of the common folk, but several of the higher and smarter individuals looked down on him.

Pridak included.

Yes, Gaston could shoot, he could blow off a man's head at a thousand yards with his eyes shut. That didn't change the fact that he was still a clown playing at being a soldier. Spent more time bragging about his trophies than getting out, grinding and getting kills.

Secretly, Pridak suspected K. Rool's plan to flip Gaston would backfire on him for the same reason Gaston would eventually turn disloyal to Braev Lee.

Honestly, how did Braev even becomes friends with the man? It defied all logic and reason. Pridak growled to himself. So many houses causing issues...

There were too many houses in the galaxy. Many of them only in power because their many years dead great ancestors having won their right to rule. Most of them traced ancestry so far back that nobody could prove them a liar.

They weren't like Pridak. Everything he had, he fought for himself. He had no heirs, he aimed to keep what he killed for. And he would continue to prove himself and his worth constantly with the blood of his foes. And much blood would he spill in the coming days.

Speaking of which...perhaps he should contact K. Rool. He could use the teleport to leave and go straight to the Station. But for now, he preferred to stay here and radio communicate. He found the oceans to his liking...

Pridak had no interest in the luxury that K. Rool surrounded himself with or used to buy others. The gladiator fights in particular were wasteful; simply watching killing without participating made his blood boil with frustration.

The oceans with their deadly creatures were his home. The sea creatures never lost their will to slay, to assert their bloodlust and hunger. More than that, he needed to tend his growing collection of domesticated beasts. Too often, armies with little machinery had tamed and ridden deadly monsters into battle; turning the tide against technologically superior enemies.

And to see such bloodthirsty animals charging towards you would causes anyone's heart to freeze up.

Pridak reached the communications room, approaching a monitor and pressing some buttons.

Pridak pulled up footage of a tribe of Orks who'd settled here a few centuries ago. The brutish beasts had adapted well to this water world, crafting crude war canoes to do battle with and eventually primitive submarines.

Like the rest of their species, their main advantage was in personal physical power and adaptation over intelligence or strategy.

Time to take care of them soon enough...but now...

He pressed some buttons, and waited for a few seconds...

The effect was twofold, the first effect was that a nuclear weapon detonated in the middle of the Ork encampment. That alone would not be enough to wipe them out, even the spores of the Orks would survive.

Following the mini nuke, a small army of radio controlled ghouls attacked; reanimated human bodies powered by radiation. Ghouls came in either feral variety, which were little more than mindless animals, or civilized ghouls, who were indistinguishable mentally from humans.

With these ghouls, Pridak had hit a sweet spot, making them able to use weapons without developing empathy or questioning orders.

No mercy as given, just as Pridak liked it. Better make that report. Pressing some buttons, the screen once again went to static...before K. Rool himself appeared.

"Ah, Pridak." K. Rool grinned as his military general. "I take it you are calling to give me some updates?"

Pridak gave the slightest nod to the smiling monarch. "The Ghoul Soldier Program is performing to acceptable parameters. Tests against native Ork tribes have been a resounding success. More than that, turning dead and failed soldier candidates into Ghouls is proving to be a useful way to recycle wasted potential. Among other things, the Leviathan Program is performing well."

"Good, good, and the potential recruits?"

"A little under half remain...and of those, a select few have continued their training in dangerous waters." Pridak remarked. "I'll see the situation later."

"I'm sure you will." K. Rool nodded.

"More than that, King K. Rool," Pridak elaborated, "Final plans for a defensive sphere around the core worlds and an invasion plan for the Galactic North are finalized. They only need your approval to move forward."

"Ah, before we do any of that, first we must throw them into confusion." K. Rool replied. "And my first part of that is recruiting Ned Stark as my hand."

Pridak frowned. "Beg pardon?" He ran through what he knew about such matters. "Under galactic law, control of his house will pass to his son Robb while he is your Hand. Ned will only be allowed to bring one Bodyguard with him; as is customary with your highest officers."

"Yes, and the wolves will be separated..."

"Making them easy picking." Pridak concluded with a smirk.

"Exactly." K. Rool crooned. "He just needs to accept the offer, and all will go smoothly from there."

"By this time, Lord Stark will have dealt with a Xenomorph infested derelict and a potential Skaven landing party on his private world," the King said. "He knows that his worlds are under risk and that only I can give him the means to defend all that is his."

"Never knowing his doom will be sealed." Pridak sneered. "Honor is what goes though his mind, but that's not what runs this galaxy. It's fear and blood!"

"Just be wary my king," cautioned Pridak, "That in defeating the wolves we don't neglect the invaders at our door; the Grox, the Tyranid, the Xenomorph and more. to say nothing of the spreading Skaven plague. Then it will not matter whose skeleton sits on the throne."

"Agreed." K. Rool nodded grimly. "So that is why I am counting on you to build our army to repel such threats."

"I'll give you your army," said Pridak, dropping formalities for a moment. "Give me a fleet and I'll move them to where they need to go. Give me the resources and I'll fortify all your strategic worlds and rebuild the North in your image."

"Don't worry. I will." K. Rool nodded with a dark expression. "And you'll have House Nui AND Ciel as part as your eventual reward, I promise you that." And K. Rool meant it.

The power of house Nui would be good, amazing even. When Pridak finally got it, it'd be like taking a drug. But Ciel would be his ultimate prize, his ultimate trophy of power. She'd be a message and a warning; a warning to those who were weak and a message to those who were strong what they could win in battle.

But he was patient. Like a predator he would wait, until the perfect moment to strike and rend.

House Nui was enduring, it was lasting and adaptive. But their isolationist attitude would end them.

Pridak looked down at his own claws, he was feeling the urge. It never went away, and that was good.

It kept his wits sharp and his claws sharper. It kept him alive all the years, in galaxy full of dangerous predators, insane pirates, and hostile aliens.

He himself kept his own trophies in his private questers in this base. Of the most dangerous hunts he had made.

Sentimentality made him bring up his trophy collection. It filled him with pride... and disappointment.

He had so many trophies, but never enough.

The head of the Ork warboss was the newest one. Built like a tank and shockingly smart.

Always one among a tribe of idiots, it seemed. One day, though, he would get something of great value...to show the world just what he was. The ultimate predator.

As fun as Orks were to kill, Pridak wanted enemies who could think.

Maybe one of the kings enemy houses could be worthy trophies. Or their hired guns. Rooster Cogburn had some very nice revolvers that would look good at Pridak's hip.

All in due time...all in due time.

He looked back at K. Rool, who was staring at him. "It's all understood, my lord."

Pridak forced himself back to work as he bid farewell to his monarch.

The promised day was coming.

And he would be ready for it, showing them all the life truly was red in tooth and claw.

For now there was still much polishing and refining to do with the special forces of Subnautica. The recruits were tough but the goal would be to get the right mix of brutality and mental toughness.

Wasn't good if they went UTTERYLY mad from the horrors they witnessed in the galaxy.

Madness was good in meat shields, what Pridak needed we're hungry predators.

And with the rise of aquatic Skaven monsters on various ocean worlds, they were needed more than ever.

With that in mind, he went back to the main control room to oversee the operations.

Work to be done.

Getting a working base on this water world was a constant administrative challenge. Besides monitoring recruits , corrosion of salt water needed to be fought, food stocks had to be defended from pests and scavengers and oxygen levels needed to be kept constant.

Reminded him of a time some wealthy man...Andrew Ryan, he believed, built an entire CITY called Rapture the sea to escape the noble houses and their controlling ways, making their own 'free market' government.

Naturally, due a variety of factors, like a vast social gap, lack of charity, and some kind of slug, the city collapsed into anarchy.

Ryan had been a good business man, visionary even. But he didn't give credit to the armies. Warriors and kings who let men like him keep their wealth.

In the end, Rapture was dominated by a rapacious drug dealer named Frank Fontaine. Pridak had a plan to kill Frank, but someone else beat him to it.

It was all a blur, to be honest, and the city was now a crap hole, full of addicts, mutants, and giant living marine suits.

Ah well. Their fault.

A raiding party was heading to Rapture to finish off that place once and for all. For that, Mr. Dark, a new member of the kings court, would be in charge overall.

Dark...he was a being of mystery, even Pridak had to admit. No one knew his origins or even where he came from. All that was known was he was sinister and powerful mage who showed up one day and simply offered his services to the King.

This was a perfect mission for a mage, given that they were going to a city full of people who were addicted to what boiled down to magic powers in a bottle.

Dark had shown good survival skills on this planet. And Pridak looked forward to seeing how deadly Mr. Dark could be.

Yes, everything was going well, and it would be only a matter of time before stye could truly begin.

Stark would soon come to an end, and new, massive unified rule would begin.

As it should be.


	5. A Station Called Home

Everyone belongs to owners...

* * *

The ship folded through the abyss of space at great speed, yet the passengers remained comfortable throughout.

Grand Marshal Braev Lee kept seated, his imposing form silent as the trip continued. He was on a trip to House Dreemurr, to discuss recent developments. When deciding who to take, he was quick to, of course, choose Mahzer, Edea, and Tina, his family, to come with him. Alternis was here as well, in full armor as usual.

His daughter, Tiny Tina, was getting a scolding from her adopted mother. "That's enough of that, young lady."

"But ma!" Tina protested, "Chest pains are a legit medical problem."

Mahzer frowned, "Uou fell asleep with a lit cigarette and set yourself on fire. Smoking won't take away any future chest pains, which are most assuredly caused by fires."

Braev wondered if he should get involved...but he knew Mahzer would insist on doing this herself, having the mother's touch, so he stayed silent and looked out the window. It was House Dreemurr who'd saved the Galactic North from a famine five years ago. They'd saved countless small colonies and nomadic bands of comet hunters.

Good people, yet monsters usually were.

'Monsters' were a unique breed in the galaxy. They were creatures of all shapes and sizes, a commonality being they were composed of magic. As another rule, monsters were more attuned to kindness than any other race in the galaxy.

The Dreemurr's, dating back in history, were largely known for farming. Most of their society was agrarian and even as their technology grew, they never developed many large cities.

Monsters they might have been, but in shape mostly. Without an external threat, they preferred to stay in pubs and eat varieties of spaghetti.

The reason Braev had for visiting them was to finalize an alliance between their houses started by their grandfathers

As of known, the current rulers of the house were Asgore and Toriel, both very kind people. With them were their three children: Blood son Asriel, and two adopted human children, a son named Chara and a daughter named Frisk.

The adoption of Frisk and Chara marked a change in both human and monster society. The children were powerful in the ways of magic, but had used their power to save their world.

Monster and human populations across the sector were more friendly. Old Rickon Stark naming Asgore his official bannermen only sped the integration. It was a momentous occasion, and Braev wanted it make sure this went smoothly as well.

Braev nearly jumped when a meaty hand clamped on his shoulder.

"My lord," Gaston laughed, "we've got an hour and a half before we dock. What do you say us and a few close men get some beers in the ships tavern?"

Braev turned to him. "I'm afraid I must sit this one out. This meeting will be important, and I do not wish to show up intoxicated."

"Quite true." Wes, the beastkeeper of House Lee, spoke up from nearby. "Bad for business."

Wes, alongside his lover Rui, were in charge of the various domesticated animals of the House. Quite good at it as well, to the point they got along more with the animals than other people.

"Indeed," said Rui, "Not to mention you can wait. Dreemurr is known for making the finest wine and spirits in the galaxy. Better than any ship's menu."

Gaston laughed, "I like you, beautiful and smart. Well, this at least gives me time to clean my weapons one last time."

Wes tried not to grind his teeth as the shameless flirting.

Meanwhile, Tina had calmed down and apologized, and Mahzer was pacified, and went back to her usual warm, mother self.

"The Dreemurr station is smaller than most, but Lord Lee will be taking a tour of the surface," said Wes. Turning his mind to work.

"Particularly Mt. Ebbot," said Rui, "it's the home of their holiest shrine, where most of their magic is harvested and where human and monster first learned to coexist."

Mt. Ebbot. A vast mountain range with an underground system, with several different environments within.

It was also the plan to examine the Gourmet World in great detail...in a safe distance of course. Native monster crews were putting in seismic detectors with the help of House Lee technicians.

The worlds supply of magic energy made them a potential target for Skaven invasions. If it came to it, the war would be fought underground as much as in space.

And the Gourmet World was also a target for Skavens for the massive amounts of ingredients that could be found there...

...though practically every time, the rats got completely slaughtered by the harsh environments and lifeforms.

More worrying about Skaven was their habit of leaving radioactive waste wherever they went. They threatened local harvests this way and needed to be repelled.

More than that, it was House Dreemur's diplomatic clout that made them such a powerful ally to House Lee.

So it was good to stay on fair terms with such influential allies.

For now, he just thought, and noticed a Space Bar in the distance. That got him thinking more: Those small space stations, typically containing a western/steampunk design, were watering holes for traders, travelers...

...and most notably, mercenaries.

Mercenaries were the gray area between the lawful and the outlaws. They came from a variety of backgrounds, but across the vast distances of space, they were often the difference between victory and defeat.

Ages ago, House Lee drove out the drug dealers and slavers from the space stations, but they kept the loyalty of the mercenaries.

They charged a considerable amount, but it was often worth it, as they were usually very skilled fighters. Knowing this, mercenaries only deployed their considerable services to the highest bidder.

And that was the thing about House Lee, their prominence in the exotic animal market gave them considerable funds for mercenary armies.

Often times, House Lee officers would oversee a larger mercenary force and command them well enough to multiply their effectiveness and morale many times.

It could be a tough job, but it was worth it, and he could see both his daughters doing the same, even better than he had.

As for bars...well, he preferred the more rustic and quieter inns at Skyrim if need be.

Dreemurr owned a nice planet, but they didn't have Nord mead or even Alto wine.

Braev considered the planet he was coming to. He'd gone on many hunting expeditions as a boy there with his father and the old king of Dreemurr. So if need be, he knew the surface well.

The first stop, though, was the Dreemurr station, Home.

Asgore was a man of many talents, notably gardening. Naming things...was not one of them. Heck, Asriel's name was a combination of his parent's names.

Indeed, the very slogan of House Dreemurr was "Growing strong"

While technically a nobleman, he'd distinguished himself with the garden trowel rather than the sword. He'd bred sunflowers that sucked up pollution and turned poisoned industrial worlds into gardens. He'd created vegetables that would grow in zero gravity with very little light.

While he wasn't much of a warrior, he was excited to have Braev Lee on his humble station

And woe betide any fool who dared hurt his family, as Asgore still knew how to use a trident, and was armed with potent fire magic.

There were many in the corporate sector and the old aristocracy who still harbored anti-monster sentiments. They'd tried to rise against his house both with overt and covert action.

He'd shown pirates hired by House Zeal just how deadly his magic could be. Not to mention that of his adopted children.

Monsters...odd folk, but good unless provoked.

And soon, Home came into view. Small for a station, it was still very large, in order to hold both people and facilities. It was built into a small moon, little more than a captured asteroid in the planets gravity. It had the advantage of always facing the sun, so the station had perpetual solar power.

Driven by steampunk solar and backup fusion reactors, it was a highly effective and efficient little station

Quite a cozy homestead as well, suited for hosting guests. The Lee ship soon docked within, ready to disembark from their long trip.

The first thing the embarking Lee party noticed was the amount of plant life. Dreemurr station was lousy with flowers, bushes and trees. It looked more like a magic fairytale cavern than the home of a noble house.

Braev Lee breathed deeply of air full of fragrance and food smells.

Captain of the guard, Undyne, soon came with others to escort them. A fish-based monster, Undyne was incredibly passionate in regards to everything, and she approached everything with fiery energy. "Lord and Lady Braev," the fish woman smiled, "on behalf of House Dreemurr, let me welcome you to Home Station. You are expected at Royal Headquarters."

"Sounds good." Edea nodded with a smile. "Been cooped up for some time."

"No part of our station is off limits to you." Undyne explained. "Your security is free to inspect our defenses and you are all invited to the Garden Core, where the stations food and oxygen is produced."

"And the bomb range?" Asked Tiny Tina.

Undyne answered evenly ,"Only with your parents consent and supervision."

"...Let's get settled first." Mahzer suggested.

"I agree" Braev rumbled. "Good to get situated first."

Tina nodded, pacified by the answer. She was grateful for her parents. While she was still an insane little helion, she was grateful for the stability and normality in her life.

The family headed down the central boulevard, filled with shops and merchant stalls. "Perhaps we can get a look at the famous lab," Rui suggested.

The lab, run by Elco, Alphys, Zelda, and Gaster, was the large place where species and food from the Gourmet World were studied. Seeing what had the most flavor and how they worked.

The lab was a true marvel of science. A place where knowledge was used only for good. It was this place which allowed the planet below to become one of the most fertile places in the galaxy despite still being a Death World.

This place was also the main supplier of food for the Imperial Capital.

As for the visit…

"Oh, yeah. Lord Asgore DID say for you to stop by there, both for recent developments and how the Gourmet World works." Undyne admitted.

Up ahead the party was coming to a series of flower and vegetable gardens. At the Center of this garden district was the Lords Residence.

Far from looking like a galactic nobleman's home, it looked like a luxurious vacation home. Inviting and friendly.

Once the families met, they would proceed from here to the lab, to discuss recent events. But first, greetings must be made.

The wooden doors parted and there waiting for Braev Lee and his family were the rulers of House Dreemurr.

"Hello, old friend," said Toriel.

The goat like monster, Toriel, was a warm and motherly individual, like Mazher, who always wanted the best for family, people, and friends.

Mazher embraced the goat woman like they were sisters. "It's been much too long, Toriel."

Braev himself hugged Asgore like a brother, "It's like I never left home."

At that moment, Gaston chose to ruin the feeling. "I'm going to set up a sniper's nest on the roof. If you hear shots fired, assume the worst." The man then turned and left to head to the roof. At least now he could stay away from any happy family matters.

Toriel sighed, but gestured for the rest of the Lee's to come in.

Inside, Asriel, Frisk, and Chara were waiting as well.

Asriel was a sweet and sensitive soul, kind like his parents. Frisk was a quiet girl, yet possessed deep kindness. Chara was a bit more brash and had a morbid sense of humor, but he love his family deeply.

Toriel led the procession to the supper table. It was hardly worth visiting the famous Gourmet World without sampling the food. Dinner was a simple affair, just a roast with some herb encrusted veggies.

Chara winked at Tiny Tina, whom he sat next to. "When we're older, you'll be my Salt Wife in the Ironborn style."

Tina frowned, "As opposed to what, your pepper wife?"

It was well known, though, that Chara had something of a crush on Tina, something that Edea like to mention in her 'gadfly' moments.

For a boy with a morbid sense of humor and a dark way of viewing the world, a child weapons expert like Tina Tiny was more desirable than any princess and more interesting.

Frisk just rolled her eyes at her brother's crush. He had a long way to go before Tina would give him the time of day. Per family tradition, it fell to her to say a word of thanks before supper.

"I like to give thanks to all those who have braved the Gourmet World to obtain the best food not only for us, but for our friends and all the people in the galaxy." She stated. "And bless Hylia."

"Amen," said her father Asgore. "Amen," said her mother, Toriel.

Braev felt a warmth in his chest that was better than any beer or even the rush from a good hunting trip. he wasn't used to this level of humility from anyone. He never felt safer than when he did around his long time friends.

As Asgore began to plate for his guests, Toriel asked of him. "Did you have a safe journey, Braev?"

"Thankfully, yes." Braev replied. "Neither pirates nor others hostiles bothered us on our journey. We were fortunate."

"Ah, good to hear." Asgore replied. "Sometimes it just feels as hostile activity has increased in some parts of the galaxy."

"Success breeds jealousy," Mazher lamented, "And sadly success also attracts the greedy and the ruthless."

"And we owe our thanks to you and your mercenary forces for policing the space lanes," Toriel comended.

Braev shook his head, "Without your mages to pinpoint the pirates strongholds and refueling stations, our star fighters would be chasing our own tails."

Asgore nodded, but then turned grim. "And yet, we still cannot track down the dreaded pirate, Terumi."

Yūki Terumi was the one he was referring to. Terumi was one of the most feared space pirates out there. The two words to best describe the pirate would be these: Evil incarnate. The man was a vile, sadistic, cruel, and twisted individual, even by pirate standards, and thrived on the suffering, misery, and despair of others.

Braev frowned, the food on his plate losing some of its allure. "It feels like every day, the monsters of the galaxy find a new member of their fraternity; always willing to do something to stand out from the rest of the pack."

"Even among the pirates, Terumi is highly elusive," said Mahzer, "Some of our Raven Navigators think he's a Null; a person without a soul, who pushes away magic and the ether away from him just by existing."

Toriel pursed her lips. "Yes, he has been on the move as always, which makes it difficult to track him down..."

"We're not sure yet who's supplying him with weapons, or purchasing his stolen goods," said Braev, "But thus far our spies have pointed to a certain Tarantulas as a possible accomplice."

"Without this creature," Mazher reasoned, "Terumi would quickly run short of spice for navigation and healing, plasma cores for his space folding engines and special torpedoes. Tarantulas is one of the few with the means and the will to sell to a creature like Terumi."

Asgore grimaced again. Tarantulas was a Predacon scientist who went rouge several years back, becoming his own agent. A nasty piece of work, his experiments were unlawful and unethical, and he took sick pleasure in performing such deeds.

Toriel shook her head, "It makes me long for the days when the worst of our worries was that reprobate, Snake Jailbird. At least he limited himself to mere theft."

Snake. Persistent but small time crook. Affably even. Those were better days.

But soon the meal was finished and Asgore stood. "Well, enough grim talk for now. Let's head to the lab. Mata Nui is here as well, in fact."

"The robot?" Tiny Tina asked.

Braev forgot to chastise his daughter for her lack of manners, he himself was too surprised. "Mata Nui? Toriel, Asgore, you are full of surprises. what did you to get him of all people out of his isolation?"

"He seemed to be intrigued by the recent events going on, and he wished to help as well in the turbulent times." Asgore replied as he stood, walking out with the entire group. "I admit he's more than a bit inscrutable," he went on "He is over one hundred thousand years old. he more or less precedes modern space travel of any kind."

Toriel began to gather the dinner plates from her guests. "Please, come with us to meet him. If you like after that, we may all sit down for some after dinner drinks."

"That does all sound so good." Edea admitted with a nod. "Alrighty, lead the way."

And so, it was not long before they reached the large lab.

Unlike the rest of the House, the Lab was state of the art, one of the best anywhere in the galaxy. And an orange, female reptile was trying to talk down a large, green creature with a gun and a broomstick.

"Strong, friend," begged Alphys, "Please, I want to thank you for taking care of the rat problem. But in the future just leave out some traps."

The creature looked a little like an ork, but it lacked the massive underbite and fangs. In fact it was one of the fabled Super mutants from New Vegas. The creature, Strong, rumbled in repy. "Strong kill and eat rats. Traps no fun!"

Another scientist, a skelton-like monster named Gaster managed to talk the super mutant down. "Strong, go into the ammo dump and detonate some expired bombs for us. We have business with the Lord and Lady of our house."

"Strong go!" The mutant bounded off happily.

Alphys sighed. "Ah, t-thank goodness that's taken care of." The usual nervous and flustered monster sighed with relief as she put the broom down.

Gaster nodded as he turned to the group. "Ah, Lord Dreemurr and Lord Lee. Good to see you today."

"A pleasure as always, Gaster." Brave nodded to the scientist. "What you you and the others have for us today?"

Gaster gestured to the path where the Super Mutant had gone. "Well we have fairly definitive proof with Strong and a dozen others of his kind that Super Mutants can coexist peacefully with monsters and humans; that is when they're not using guns to open soup cans and soft drinks." He flashed a knowing grin, "But I think you'll be more interested in the anti-piracy measures we've been working on."

Alphys jumped up, filled with nervous excitement. "Yes! We've been working on ways that pirates avoid conventional scanners and space mines. This in turn can be used to get the jump on Tyranid Bio-fleets or the spores that Xenomorphs launch into space from planet to planet!"

Alternis nodded. "That is good to hear. The virus must be cleaned before they can take root!"

"First one must study the virus." Another voice caught their attention. A blond Hylian female with a blue shirt and black pants. Zelda, an scholar, researcher...and tsundere.

"Most people believe that the egg or the face hugger is the basic Xenomorph unit," Zelda explained, "In fact, most Xenomorph infestations start with something called black goo; a highly virulent mutagen that infects groundwater and transforms native life into zombies. When these zombies die, they birth large worms which impregnate new hosts and produce a Deacon; which then evolves into a queen."

The Hylian looked somber at her announcement, "With medical research from House Nui, we've made the first steps to developing a vaccine and even a cure for the Black goo, and for the facehuggers."

"It is our pleasure," said a wise voice, "For long I spent ignoring other beings, taking for granted they would always be there," said Mata Nui himself.

All turned to see the Lord of House Nui. A tall biomechanical being, Mata Nui was a golden figure, wearing the Mask of Life, Kanohi Ignika, upon his face. An artifact of great power, it was not to be used rashly.

Yet for all his power, Mata Nui was a humble figure, evidenced by his pet Scarabax Beetle, Click, who rode on his shoulder.

"Lord Dreemurr," he bowed, "Thank you for having me. And Lord and Lady Lee, thank you for answering our summons in the name of friendship and peace."

"Friendship runs strong between my house and Dreemurr," said Braev, "But I'm afraid myself and my forefathers only knew you by reputation lord. What brings you out from your homeworld?"

Mata Nui smiled. "I wish to aid the galaxy at large as hostiles begin to grow in numbers. It is my home as well."

"True..." Edea noted. "Well, it's good to have you around for the future."

"Indeed." Zelda nodded. "Now, let us show you around."

Alphys took over for the Hylian Princess, "Oh there's so much to show! Where can we even begin?! Why just over there, we have engineered a new flower that can nullify Yautja cloaking devices. X-rays, infrared, subspace, their invisibility can resist them all, but our flower can flush them out and force them out of hiding!"

"For that we have House Dreemurr's long history with farming and horticulture," Zelda elaborated.

"And speaking of which." Zelda went over to a console and summoned a holographic map of a planet.

The Gourmet World

"220,000 kilometers in circumference, this planets has countless species of flora and fauna." Zelda explained. "We actually divided the world into two sections. 30 percent is what we call the 'habitual zone', where, while still quite dangerous is certain areas, it is stable enough where we built large settlements and cities there. The remaining 70 percent, though, is what we call the 'True' Gourmet World. Consisting of eight massive continents, the environments and animals here are powerful beyond belief, and only experts can safely travel there."

Alternis knew that well. A few months ago, in a reckless moment, he traveled to that part of the Gourmet World to seek ingredients for his family.

Had it not been for Urbosa, he would have been killed.

Toriel regarded Zelda with respect, "Indeed, the so called Gourmet Zone is where House Dreemur trains our Citizen Militias. Not to mention the fact that there are still thousands of isolated farmsteads in the Gourmet Zone; protected only by basic ring forts and the willingness of their owners."

Mata Nui nodded, "And I take it this Habitable Zone is where most of your House's manufacturing and commerce takes place."

"Indeed." Zelda nodded. "Though even that Zone has dangerous environments. Ice Hell is one such example."

"Ah, yes. Ice Hell." Asgore smiled weakly. A continent composed entirely of ice and snow, it was below freezing there, and one must have both good equipment and preparation before going there...lest one ends up as frozen statue.

The highlight there was the 'Century Soup', a soup formed every hundred years by the mixture of frozen ingredients.

"But even more Important though it Hotland, my old home!" squawked Alphys.

Zelda brought up a map of an arid, dry desert. "Indeed, It's the source of most of Dreemurr's mineral extraction. It's the home of the planet's industrial revolution and also the main source of lasers."

"And conveyor belts!" reminded Alphys.

"Indeed, and it's actually one of the more safer areas, compared to other deserts, like," Zelda zoomed in on another section. "The Sand Garden, located the Habitable Zone, is a desert region of 39,000,000 Sq. kilometers. Dangerous, yes, but also prime source of desserts."

"And nothing beats those!" Edea grinned happily.

"Indeed," said Zelda, "It's the sale of desserts on the intergalactic market that funds nearly two thirds of the research here as well as making up over twenty percent of the planet's exports. Though a region which could use some more lockdown and security is The Core."

"It's gotten bad recently," said Gaster, "The Core the source of much of the planet's magical electricity and a major producer of ozone. However, there's a logic plague among the robots of the region which is rendering it more hazardous than the electrical storms, deadly insects and other hazards make it."

"Hmmm," Braev rubbed his chin in thought. "That is distressing to hear."

"And to compound matters," Elco, another scientist, stepped forward. "The powerful lifeforms on the Gourmet World attracts Yautja, who see the animals as supreme trophies."

"We have a delicate balance with the Yautja," said Toriel, "They've always had a gentleman's agreement with us; they don't hunt the monsters and we don't stop them from hunting the wildlife. However, that agreement doesn't extend to any of our allies or any humans on the planet."

Mahzer sighed. "Well, no pact is perfect, sadly."

Braev nodded silently, knowing all too well of the deadliness the Yautja presented. Many of brave Nord had fallen victim to the hunters, converted to trophies for the ships of the predators.

The Yautja were violent, no member of their society no matter age or gender were except from the hunts. Despite their violent nature, they were not like the Orks or the Xenomorph. They were intelligent, and they had a sort of code of honour.

They sought out the strongest prey, to weed out the week and benefit their society as a whole; individual trophy taking was a means to an end for their nomadic, tribal culture. But as shown with the Monsters of Dreemurr, they could be reasoned with on some level.

"Anyways," Mata Nui went on. "All is otherwise well so far?" He tilted his head. "What is the status of Hyrule?"

Zelda's expression grew dark. "Ganon has uploaded his mind into a super computer called Calamity Ganon, many years ago; He's taken control of several biomechanical constructs our greatest scientists built. Food from house Dreemurr is keeping us in the war."

She took a deep breath, "Our Champion Link is taking the war to Ganon. He's lost most of his factories and his allies are deserting him. But my main worry is that King K. Rool is thinking of sending the Space Marines to intervene."

Mata Nui and Braev nodded grimly, thinking of not only Link, but the other Champions as well: Mipha of the Zora, Revali of the Rito, Urbosa of the Gerudo, and Daruk of the Goron. Together with Link and Zelda, these were Hyrule's best, and were personally recruited by Asgore to serve as his elite guard (and in Zelda's case, scientist). They thrived on to this day, due ot various reasons.

Mahzer spoke. "Has Ganon tried to use the constructs to invade the Gourmet Zone?"

Gaster smirked. "Tried, but the Eight Kings take care of them. Ganon is smart," Heexplained. "But he doesn't understand magic, he's never respected it. You can't study magic or use it effectively if you don't play by its rules. It'd be like building electronics without using insulated wires."

"But he still keeps trying," Alphys lamented, "Evil as he is, the guy is as persistent as Link, his arch enemy"

As for the Eight Kings, they were the most powerful known animals in the Gourmet Zone. Each one ruled over one of the eight continents, and to cross one was a bad idea.

"The Eight Kings fundamentally preserve the balance of the ecosystem," Gaster went on. "They're fundamentally neutral to what goes on about them as long as the integrity of ingredients are preserved. Only Bambina has the slightest interest of anything going on outside this planet."

"However it was the Guardian Heracles who crippled Gannon's fleet in orbit with her air powers when his activities threatened her foal," Zelda interjected.

"Not to mention Moon's ability simply absorbs anything that gets too close." Elco added. "All in all, these creatures are dangerous, but simply wish to protect their homeland."

"As with many things," Toriel explained, "That which is dangerous is not always evil. That which helps you is not always good. The livelihood of everyone, monster and human, depends on the ingredients of the Gourmet world. To tame the world would be to kill it. Even the violent Yautja don't harm the sacred air trees or the children of the eight Kings."

"If it came down to it," said Mata Nui, "Do you think your world could withstand a siege by the Tyranids . . . or the space Marines?"

Asgore had to pause and think on that for a moment. Then he spoke. "It is difficult. There is much even we do not know about the Gourmet World...what mysteries lie within."

"But that's why we've been working on some Robos to remote control, so we can explore the World without risk!" Alphys piped up.

"Given how Tyranids exterminate all life anywhere they go, even more systematically than Xenomorphs, it'll be unlikely that the Eight Kings take it lying down," Gaster pointed out, "The Moon that absorbs everything will help us funnel in their bio-ships in for a specific angle; allowing our anti-space guns to concentrate our firepower."

"And barring that," said Alphys, "there's a number of ingredient rich caves and rock formations which we could use to build garrisons and entrenchments that would allow us to stand year long sieges."

"And," Zelda went on. "The Snake King has been know to extend its body into space to eat, so it will likely attack anything hostile that gets to close."

Braev nodded. "Good, good."

"I believe the galaxy is due for a time of chaos," said Mata Nui, looking directly at Braev. "A sit stands, all of our houses face deep, ongoing problems with no real solutions in sight. But there is more on the times are good, the Noble Houses can do no wrong, when times are hard, the Noble Houses can do no right. What we need is to act before the start of the dark times."

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?" said Braev, "If we're under threat from Tyranids and who knows what else, the King will act. He may be a buffoon but he can be counted on to defend his throne."

"And yet..." Mata Nui paused. "What if it's JUST the throne, and nothing else?"

Braev had no answer for that. Deep down he wondered about the state of things in the Royal House. It...got under his skin sometimes, worrying about his family as well.

"King K. Rool will do anything to keep his throne," said Mata Nui, "But do not mistake that for patriotism. I've watched many tyrants fight back the Tyranids and other monsters from the void; only to bleed their kingdoms of treasure and people in the process. They rule over a pile of ashes, but they still rule."

"Remember the history of the Barrow Kings," said Zelda, "Who ruled the North thousands of years before the Starks. the Last of them stopped a Grox invasion by using atomic weapons on Grox occupied worlds; burning out their armies but also turning thousands of planets into glassy wastelands. After the Grox were gone, the Barrow kings turned to banditry and theft to pay for the tremendous cost of the war."

Braev nodded grimly once more. Indeed, he knew corruption well. Several decades back in his youth, a religious sect, known as the Sparrows, had power over a portion of the Galaxy. Acting as benevolent caregivers, they were in fact a fearsome and intolerant militant force, eager to convert all those to their faith-and root out those 'unclean' such as homosexuals and the like.

The Sparrows had tried to push their faith onto the native peoples of Skyrim, hoping to use the chaos of the Civil war as a cover for their brand of fundamentalist violence. Braev himself was a worshipper of Talos; a god of strength and war, but not a god who policed his followers in the bedroom.

The Sparrows would keep their Seven, or their version of the Seven. Talos would be more offended by their treachery, using kindness to mask cruelty than he would be of a man and a man or a woman and a woman together.

Braev himself did not care really about what a 'proper' relationship was. If a man loved a man or a woman loved a woman, then so be it. Eventually, he tracked down their leader, a man known only as the 'High Sparrow'.

Digging up records, Braev discovered the man, whose name was never known to him, was once nothing more than a shoemaker.  
Before he became the so called "High Sparrow," the Shoe maker had been a man of some wealth and status. His luxury shoes were in high demand from the nobility and a pair could fetch a year's salary. Back then he'd been known for his drunken debauchery rather than fundamentalist preaching.

It scared Braev, to think of how the man could go so wrong. One day the High Sparrow had turned from drunken lecher to healer, teacher and helper of the poor. Yet the man's heart had turned very dark, it wasn't long before he was wanted in connections with lynchings, attacks on minorities and queer people.

And most alarming of all, K. Rool's spies and policemen had done nothing to stop him; even as his fundamentalism and cruelty grew too great to ignore.

The worse part? The High Sparrow was not doing this out of money and and material gain, as he beloved such things were worthless. No, the High Sparrow truly believed what he was doing and preaching was right, the will of the gods.

Eventually, Braev knew he had to take matters in his own hands, to protect his lands and his loved ones. Gathering not only the best Nords he knew, but other great warriors he allied with, he led an assault on the Sparrows.

By the time it came to end it, the Sparrows had gathered a powerful and fanatical army; many of them former mercenaries and poor kids who'd only known hardship. They had a well trained and armed space force and the High Sparrow was not too proud to take advice from people who knew more about warfare than he did.

With his best mercenaries and finest captains at his side, Braev had broken the Sparrow's citadel and fought his way past the gates to the great Sept of Baelor.

it was there in what should have been a holy place of a major galactic religion that he'd faced the little old man who'd been so kind and caused so much death and misery.

He did not seem to fear Braev, seeming accepting his end, but also asked if Braev was willing to spill blood in such a holy place.

Braev paused, knowing the High Sparrow had some points...but he had come to safeguard those he cared for, not an ideology.

When Braev answered yes, the old man confided that he was in fact afraid of death; but that there were more important things. That any man alone was poor and powerless, but together his Sparrows could bring an empire to its knees.

It was then that old man revealed he had a hostage, Mahzer; the woman who would in the future become his wife. Frail and sick, she'd been getting treatment in the White Magic Hospital in Eternia when the High Sparrow's agents had kidnapped her.

It was Mahzer, who despite having a gun to her head, suggested the Notorious "Trail of the Seven."

Braev, deep down furious at this cowardly tactic, had to agree, unwilling to let her die.

The fighting called a ceasefire as the preparations were made.

The Rules of the trail were simple but not easy. Each side would field seven champions and whoever won had the will of the Seven Gods on their side. To Braev, it seemed a barbaric and arbitrary thing; but he could not deny that the Sparrows would not back down from such a challenge.

Alternis, Reinhardt, Rui, Wes, Tsubaki Yayoi and even a newly hired, fresh faced Gaston had agreed to join Braev in combat against the High Sparrow's hand picked killers.

Among those was a young man named Lancel, who had joined the Sparrow after some personal crisis.

The fight was short but bloody. Although Tsubaki lost her life, she died boldly, never one crying or begging for her life. Defiant to the very end.

Young Lancel had fought with a poisoned weapon; the smallest scratch being what ended Tsubaki, who killed two more men even while succumbing to the deadly venom. In a bit of vengeance, Gaston put an arrow through Lancel's eye.

Braev and his men prevailed, but the High Sparrow refused to relinquish his hostage. And Mahzer surprised everyone by stabbing the High Sparrow with his own dagger.

Mahzer ran to the group afterwards with the teenage Alternis guarding her as Braev approached the wounded Sparrow and finished him off with his great sword.

He took no joy in his task, not even satisfaction. He simply did what he had to do.

Even in his final moments, the High Sparrow had been sure that his had been the moral path. The scary part was that Braev could see himself in the man. He'd once flirted with crystal orthodoxy as a jaded young man, nearly falling to fundamentalist faith.

Had his life taken a different turn, he could have ended up being a Sparrow instead of a follower of Talos.

In killing that old man, he buried a part of himself; a part that was better off dead.

What happened next was simply cleaning up the mess. The Sparrows were disbanded, Tsubaki was giving a honorable funeral, and those had suffered were taken care of...

But enough on dwelling on the past. Braev had to focus on the now.

"Myself, my house and my family will give our last treasure and our last drop of blood defending our allies and our Kingdom," he told his friends, "We will defend it from threats internal and external; I'll even defend all of you from our King, if I have to."

Mata Nui put his hands together and smiled, "That, Lord Braev Lee, is exactly the answer I was hoping for. Now then, I believe I will share some of my advancements. It is time for me to help defend this galaxy from anyone who would threaten it."

It was then Ciel chose to come in.

"Thank you for having me and giving me such fine hospitality," the genius girl said to her hosts, Toriel and Asgore. "And as per your permission, I've managed to set up the CIEL-SYSTEM aboard this station. Now if the solar power is cut off, you won't have to rely on expensive, imported anti-matter to provide power. You can just use energy crystals which are abundant on the planet's surface."

Toriel bowed, "We are only too humble to have your aid, my dear."

Ciel smiled kindly, "More than that, I've figured out a way to punch through the communications blackout caused by Tyranid Hive Fleets; known as the Shadow in the Warp."

The Shadow...no one knew exactly how it worked, but apparently the Hive Mind guiding the beasts and the ability to completely screw up communications and travel. It was quite distressing, and Ciel's research to counter it would be much appreciated.

What it meant was that when a hive fleet attacked a solar system, the Shadow would cut off all communications and block fold space travel. The world in question would be cut off and left vulnerable.

"I came upon the seed of my research from watching recorded footage of Skaven Horde Fleets use focused warp lightning to punch through the interference and Yautja ships wage guerilla attacks despite the shadow in the warp; using faster than light travel freely."

"Hopefully," Mata Nui added. "We can counter the threats before they begin, and help stabilize Worlds around the sectors."

"Yes!" said Ciel excitedly, "that's the entire point of my research! Distribute the CIEL system ahead of anti-matter shortages. Detect Hive Fleets before they get within attack range. Sniff out Skaven activity in Dark space before they attack. Our Galactic Kingdom is too vast and the King's power too diffuse to be reactive. We, the people, the Houses must be proactive in the time to come."

Braev nodded once more, happy to hear such advancements have come far...

But sometimes science could be both beneficial AND dangerous...Wes and Rui were good examples. While they had served Braev for some times, they both only looked like very young adults.

The reason: Experimentation.

The two were orphans captured by a scientist named Fuyuhiko Date, who performed nasty experiments on them, to build new types of soldiers. The effects gave them better connection to animal life, better health, and dramatically slowed the aging process, as well as extending their lifespans dramatically. But the operations were painful.

The goal of the scientist Date was to create a mass produce-able super soldier program to rival that of the King's Space Marines. Rui and Wes were intended to become proto-super soldiers; their enhancements supposed to make them eligible for further augmentation at a lesser cost than the feared Space Marines.

It ended when Agent 47, to prove himself to his king, assassinated Date and destroyed all of his data or stole it to improve the King's own Space Marine program.

47's orders did not cover the fate of the boy and girl, at the time, Braev had used his favor with the King to spare the then children's lives. He treated them well and helped them, and they in turned served him loyally.

Rui also gained a sort of 'second sight' that let her see the 'aura' of certain beings. These psychic powers served him well as a lord, spotting out those with agressive auras, tracking down spies and seeing through the ways of various shape shifters. More than once, the two had saved Braev from gene Stealer cults, Skaven Gutter runners and worse.

Yes, he was happy to have them as his side.

Meanwhile, Ciel went on. "In other news, we've been testing something new...but it's kinda risky and still in the early stages..."

Mata Nui, though, gave a nod of consent, and Braev spoke "Proceed. The knowledge will be safe with us."

Ciel took a deep breath. "DNA transfusion...or using samples of animal DNA to enhance other beings."

Braev couldn't help but blurt out, "I hope you're not talking about what I think you're talking about." His expression grew angry, "The last time someone tried something like that, the Beastmen of the Drakwald sector were created."

Ciel raised her arms, "No my lord, nothing like that."

"Not hybrids or anything." Mata Nui added. "Simply enhancements."

"But like I said, it's a tricky process." Ciel admitted. "DNA is a rather...complex thing to work with. A baseline human has about thirty genes that control the formation of the eyes," she explained, "A Space marine has only two; but that's because red spice keeps their bare bones DNA stable and solid.

The girl scientist became excited as she waved her arms, "But imagine, a human with gills who could survive on an aquatic world. Or a human with heat vision like a Yautja. It's a matter of finding the right blend of genes. We don't want to rip away the excess DNA, we want to keep people modular; keep the changes reversible."

Mahzer looked interested, but then a look of worry came over her. "I remember a similar thing was done in the fallen city of Rapture, they...used some kind of slug to alter the genes."

Braev nodded. "Yes, and the reports say they needed the substance regularly, or deformity of both body AND mind would occur."

"Well in Rapture, the maker of these "plasmids," Dr. Tannenbaum ran into the opposite problem," Ciel elaborated, "The Plasmids of rapture are made of two components; ADAM and EVE. ADAM being a substance of pure stem cells which modifies the DNA and EVE with actually powers new mutations. Excessive use of ADAM or EVE brought on addiction which both increased the number of genes and genetic mutations and also required more and more EVE to keep the mutation in check."

"I remember seeing autopsies of the so-called Splicers," said Braev, "Poor souls; on the inside and out they were torn apart."

"Yeah..." Ciel nodded. "What I am working on is an attempt to be more stable, as to not cause a complete breakdown in the coding 're working on something reversible, stable but also adaptable. I'm not trying to make my procedure addictive in order to sell magic powers in a bottle."

"We've had much promise using white spice during gene splicing," explained Mata Nui, "Normally it's used to freeze cells for live cryo-stasis; but we've found it can keep DNA solid without tearing it apart or causing it to become excessively rigid."

White Spice...one of the rarer spices, but quite useful nonetheless, and it was all in the good hands of Mata Nui. The Lord Of House Nui controlled the majority of the Galaxy's White Spice supply. he made a good profit from its niche uses; but it seemed like he was using it to unlock hidden potential in the genes of sentient life.

As an extremely advanced House, it would make great advancements in the field. The Station of his House, Metru Nui, was a vast area divided up into various sections. The Coliseum was the center of it, used to hosting friendly games and making speeches, as well as powering the station.

The station was a powerhouse of art, culture and science. Housing not only some of the finest scientists in the Galaxy but among the most cutting edge cinema, literature, theater and even video gaming. The Station was home not only to a powerful military force but served yearly for the site of a dozen conventions and meeting celebrating one form of art or sports or another.

Mata Nui himself was famous for his laws regarding free speech and expression and his endorsement of the arts in all shape and sizes. It wasn't always like this, but it coincided with Mata Nui's desire to make the galaxy a better place and be an active steward of it.

And speaking of gaming...

"So, you all showing our pals the sweet new tech were planning?" All turned to see a high ranking Nui member, Hana ' ' Song, waltz in, a grin on her face.

"Indeed," Said Mata Nui playfully, "Sentient beings cannot live on bread alone. As our resident Starcraft champion will attest."

"And Total War champion," the Asian woman corrected playfully.

At first glance, one would wonder why would be part of the upper circle. She was a pro gamer, sure, known for being a champion in many rings of video games. Some, though, did not understand why that would earn her a high seat.

The answer: Her gaming skills gave her the reflexes to pilot a special type of mech into battle, and her skill with it inspired troops when facing enriching hordes of enemies. She lost count on how many alien bastards she would gun down in a single battle.

had been at the top of her class in school, top of her class for physical education. Combined with the reflexes honed in skill based shooters and real time strategy games, she'd made a name for herself when Orks had invaded her homeworld and she'd gone toe to toe against suicidally insane Ork fighter pilots; particular Da Krimson Baron.

But that alone wouldn't guarantee her a spot in Mata Nui's court. At the end of the day, it was her commitment to justice and fairness which put her over the top and into the court of the ancient machine. That and she was never afraid to speak her mind.

Sure, maybe a bit of glory hound and little too caught up in treating fights like a game, but her true kindness and spirit shone through it all, and she earned the respect of many.

pointed to her eyes, "see anything different?"

Braev cocked his head.

She smiled, "I got eagle DNA in me. I went from 20/20 vision to 20/60. Oh and wait until you see what my new mech can do."

Eagle DNA? Well, at least she did not mutate horribly like those Beastmen did...

Beastmen...unlike other animal bases races, who had just as much civilization as anyone else, these brutes were feral, smelly, rage-filled, and primitive...but very dangerous.

The Beastmen ruled over a section of galaxy known as the Drakwald Sector; a twisted mess of asteroid fields, nebulae, black holes and a hundred other navigational hazards.

When they weren't killing, slaying and maiming on planetsides, they were riding around on rusted, beat up, scavenged starships and raiding and pillaging at will.

Monstrosities of human and animal, the Beastmen desired nothing but to destroy civilization as it existed everywhere, aided by powerful magic and a high reproductive rate.

Just another alien race to do battle with.

Ciel spoke up again. " here received only a minor sample, just as a test. Everything, thankfully, turned out ok."

"But I would have forgiven you if I turned into a giant eagle woman," giggled.

Ciel gulped, "True, but I'm not sure I would have forgiven myself."

Mata Nui stepped in, " has been helping Ciel design better navigation computers for mech infantry as well as starfighters. At some point however, improvements to the pilots themselves are needed."

That was true...in space, you always needed to be alert every second of battle in order to NOT get shot down into the unforgiving abyss.

Space craft could dogfight thousands of kilometers apart, and then in the blink of an eye two pilots would find themselves within only a few hundred feet of each other with a simple engine boost. It was a game of less than milometers. The tiniest advantage would be enough to give one pilot victory over another.

"Not to mention," said Mata Nui, "Our ongoing research into Raven spice is producing a more accurate and safer way to train fold space navigators."

Edea looked up. "The Raven Spice, eh?"

Asriel spoke up this time. "I've read about it. Supposedly named after the Three-Eyed Raven, a being said to see into the past, present, and future all over the galaxy."

"I'm old enough to remember the time before Fold Space, before Warp travel," said Mata Nui. In the earliest days of space travel, living beings would freeze themselves and travel thousands of years between stars. Warp travel allowed faster travel, but it would still have taken centuries to cross the galaxy. Fold Space as we know it allows instant space travel anywhere in the galaxy. The only limit is the sight of the Navigator."

"Indeed," said Ciel, "Many promising young navigators suffer overdose or stroke due to the sheer volume of spice they ingest. My work was focused on weeding out those with genetic affinity for Blue Spice and stopping overdoses."

Asgore looked up. "A tricky process at times. Even today the nature of Spice eludes us in some aspects..."

"Yes," Toriel agreed. "Some have even begun to question where it came from...and why."

"Even I don't know where the spice comes from," said Mata Nui, "But the problem is that it is so profitable, most don't care where it comes from. They just want to mine as much as they can."

Ciel stepped forth, "And that is the biggest question of my research, the origins of spice and how to cultivate it in a renewable fashion."

"The Worms of Arrakis..." Alternis began. "They are major spice producers themselves, but to harvest directly from them is quite dangerous."

"They're the largest producers of Blue Spice," Braev reflected, "The average worm about eight hundred meters long and nearly unkillable without atomic weapons. They eat the spice, hoard it but they also seem to produce it."

"As of late," said Ciel, "Excess water brought in from off world is harming the worms and their delicate fusion based biology."

"Hmmm, yes." Asgore rubbed his chin. "Nature is a delicate balance. To disrupt it could have devastating effects to the planet and they ways of life we live."

"As our house was descended from farmers rather than warriors," said Toriel, "We know better than most just how much we depend upon nature, even in this age of faster than light travel. The richest, most prosperous farmer can be ruined by an early frost or a crop blight."

"All it takes is one bad season..." Frisk noted.

"And we're all dead." Chara concluded with an impish grin.

...Seriously, the kid was creepy. thought that to herself as she stared at the boy.

"I like you boy," said Tiny Tina, giving Chara a look, "Maybe you and me can talk bombs when this is done. Swap stories of killing dangerous beasts."

"You're not handling any bombs outside of weapons training, Tina," said Braev, "You're not on Pandora anymore."

Braev knew Tina had potential as a great military leader. She just needed the focus to do so. It would take time, yes, but it would happen. A experience military commander under the next Marshall, his blood daughter Edea.

If there was one thing that gave Braev confidence in Tina, it was her willingness to bond with her allies. She'd lost too many people in her life. It made her reckless but it also laid the foundation for a military commander who would not spend the lives of her troops needlessly.

And who knew, maybe in this lifetime the Galaxy would not need Tina's particular skills.

One could only hope, due to the countless dangers that spread throughout it. From monsters, to aliens, to even malevolent gods...worse of which were the so called 'Chaos Gods'

Magic was a powerful force in the galaxy. It was a force of nature, similar to gravity or magnetism; but unlike those it followed its own set of rules and restrictions very different from anything else.

The winds of Magic by themselves were fundamentally neutral, it was all up to the intent of the spell caster. But Chaos was what happened when the worst emotions of mortals combined in the Warp to become sentient. Khorne; god of war and Murder. Nurgle: God of disease and despair. Tzeentch: God of Treachery and sorcery. Slaanesh: God of debauchery and pleasure.

Needless to say, they were a threat to all, and demons were countered with extreme prejudice.

Asgore once again spoke up. "Ah, I just remembered! I wish for some of your to test our new remote controlled droids if you wish to explore the Gourmet World from a distance."

"Why not," said Braev, "If we're going to defend your world, we may as well get to know the planet's surface."

Zelda grinned. "We call the drones 'Gourmet Telexistence Robots' or GT Robo for short." She showed one nearby: A humanoid robot with bird-like head and covered with a fur-like coating. "These are based of the Nitro species, the legendary gourmet masters of the ancient past. You put on special equipment, and it will copy your exact movement, with a delay time of less than a millisecond. So…shall we begin?"


	6. Gourmet Salmon

"Amazing!" said Edea, as GT Robo took off and began to fly over the dense jungle canopy. "It's beautiful." She gasped as the Robo took a dive and dropped through the canopy, diving into the dense undergrowth of Area 7, King Bambina's realm.

Area 7 was a massive continent, and filled to the brim with primates of all kinds, as well as others sorts of giant animals.

Edea, using the direct control over the Robo, looked about at the massive landscape, the camera providing visual feedback.

King Bambina had established a kingdom among the largest trees in the known universe. Establishing a ruthless martial arts based caste system. He was a proud and rambunctious ruler who nonetheless still took his duties seriously. He'd even gone so far as to welcome Yautja hunters to his realm in order to keep his people on their toes and never complacent.

Down below, various strange creatures fought, hunted and died in the jungle's dense, dark undergrowth. The gourmet ingredients found within could nearly match the rarer strains of spice for their value and use.

As well as the mystical ingredient known as PAIR...

...which happened to be Bambina's balls, and could only be obtained via a complex dance session that required superhuman speed to do.

Not here for that.

That ingredient wasn't one you harvested with the kids watching.

At any rate, the party aboard Home Station were more interested in the strategic choke points in the landscape. The dense wood of the trees and metallic composition of the leaves would make it hard for a foreign fleet to have any kind of accurate scans of the surface.

The party, all piloting GT Robos from the space station, began to examine their surroundings once more, keeping watch for any aggressive life forms.

The Stray islands, floating islands that wandered all over the planet at random were geological marvels. They were also home to anti-aircraft defenses, training grounds for Asgore's monster militia forces and also the hideous and powerful Goron Beasts.

Speaking of Gorons, Gorons themselves were a tough, hardy race, found of volcanic environments. But, as a rule, they were big-hearted people. Daruk was among the people, and one of the best fighters.

Daruk was an exemplar of his people. Aggressive but not unethical, brusque but not unkind and deadly loyal to friends and family. he'd been thought dead by Gannon's hands nearly a century ago. But in truth his personality had been copied and uploaded into the CPU of the Divine Guardian Vah Rudania.

Now he was a voice of his people as well as a veteran of the war against Hive Fleet Gorgon

The same thing happened to Mipha, Revali, and Urbosa as well. Thought dead but also restored by the CPU units, with Zelda and Alphys all making backup bodies for them. Tricky, but WAY worth it.

The end result of which was that Dreemur, Lee and their allies could count on experienced warriors who during their lives had decades or even centuries of combat experience.

More than that, each of these warriors had for over a century resisting demons of Chaos. Year ago, Ganon had perfected the ability to transfer demons of the Chaos gods into advanced enough computers; this was how he corrupted the guardians.

But the champions of Hyrule had not only survived war, but the moral temptation of greater demons of Khorne, Tezeentch, Nurgle and Slannesh.

In short, things have been going well for the Dreemurr family. Good food (if dangerous to get), loyal and skilled warriors, and loving friends and family.

That what was going through Asgore's mind as he piloted his Robo across Area 7. He looked about, then quietly made sure the others took over as they hid from a Sapphire Ant, a native species of insect. It was, as the name said, a crystalline ant with a body of sapphire. And it was big.

VERY big. Even that was an understatement, and with a Capture Level of 702, it was not to be taken lightly.

A Capture Level was a value given to the animals of the Gourmet World. To put in comparison, a beast with a Capture Level of 5 could overturn a large tank easily with its bare claws/wings/paws. To say nothing of the Gourmet Zone animals, with CL levels reaching to the hundreds, and even thousands.

There were definitely some lethal creatures on the world, with the Eight Kings approaching God like levels of power and ferocity. Though one of the things keeping creatures like the Sapphire Ant in check was the Sandoriko plant, which Asgore picked up on the drone's scanners.

An animated, venus fly trap like plant; the deadly pollen of the flower could completely desiccate a living being, even something as deadly as the mighty Ant now fleeing the flower. Many powers in past history had attempted to weaponize the flowers with varying levels of success.  
But the 'domesticated ones' were still more manageable than wild ones. Thankfully, the GT Robos would keep the group safe while they did the recon from the station.

Toriel brought up a video monitor from a remote drone, "This is Area 3, arguably the harshest area of the Gourmet World. The Clouds are thick enough to block any known scanners, especially around the Cloud Tree. Due to its geographical isolation and harsh climate and volcanism; this is our last resort fallback position in the event of a catastrophic invasion."

Undyne, in her own Robo next to her, spoke up. "Possibly, if only the dumb Raven King would let us stick around more."

The Raven King, one the Eight Kings, was an extremely powerful  
l Emperor Crow with powers over poison. Anything caught in its shadow would perish.  
"Indeed," commented Toriel, "Even by the Standards of the Eight Kings, the Raven King is deeply independent, paranoid and territorial. However, the creature is also highly practical; it is nearly omniscient and it is this trait which has enabled his kind to survive multiple mass extinctions."

"So in order for him to let us onto his land," said Undyne, "It would have to be something big, like a galactic level extinction event or benefit him in some way."

Ravens...odd birds, no matter what type they were. Seen as harbingers of doom or change, they were both feared and revered by the people of the galaxy.

Zelda pointed to a global map, "While the Raven is treacherous in his own way, one of our main concerns is holding the Three Way Road." The screen zoomed in as the drone flew overhead, "This road is one of the only major ways in and out of the habitable, so called "human world."

Gaster grinned, "for years it's been guarded by an all out maniac named Guemon. But lately we're trying to persuade him to let us place landmines, gun emplacements and checkpoints on the road."

Geumon was a easy-going yet very powerful man who spent a lot of his time guarding the Road...so much he often was seen spacing out, seemingly not paying any attention to things around him...but he was good at his task.

He was a fearless fighter, a skilled swordsman and a highly adept cook. His Fly Shark fin soup was regarded by many as a national treasure. More than that, he was famous for his near inhuman intuition; something that saved him against many dangerous beasts and more human foes.

He always turned down the help he was offered, politely though. He liked to keep his skills sharp and intact. Gaster found he could not blame the man for that. Besides, Gourmet Zone beasts were tough enough that conventional weapons would do no good against them.

Most creatures were resistant to typical forms of gunfire and hand held weapons. Even the weaker wildlife could only be hurt by either monomolecular edge weapons or otherwise magically or psychically empowered weapons. Such as Space Marine Adamantium chainswords, Link's Master sword or Geumon's own unique Katana weapon.

It was a tough world, but it was worth it to come here. So...delicious to come here.

And the Gourmet Zone had all the best food.

Hell, this was one of the only Death Worlds with a large tourism industry in the planet's safe zone. The only other was Stygia, and that was before the planetary shields shut down and stellar radiation, lethal gangs and everything turned into shit.

Gourmet World lived up to its name a dozen times over.

Indeed, the food here could reach extremely high prices, not surprising due to both the taste and how risky it could be to get some of this food.

Indeed, the point of this recon was to use the Robos to gather up some prime ingredients.

One such drone had spotted the highly tasty but poison ridden soft drink ATOM, used to make either delicious beverages once it came down from space or serve as an affordable starship fuel.

There was AIR, in Hercules's lands; a fruit that was both a nutritious salad ingredient and a source of oxygen which could make a void moon habitable with just a few gourds.

These, like PAIR, were actually very tricky ingredients to use, and were rumored to be part of the course used by a famous hunter.

The stuff was famous for being used to enable contact with the dead. As such it was prized by people looking to cheat death, people looking to talk to dead loved ones and Chaos Sorcerers with much darker intentions.

The soup like substance needed to be eaten after AIR, in order to take full effect.

Yes...the legendary Full Course of the hunter...not to be taken lightly.

As such, today was more standard (relatively speaking) ingredients being sought out. It would involve using the Robos for hunting, so some fisticuffs would ensured.

And Speak of the devil, amidst the shadows of Area Seven, a Sapphire Ant staggered into camera view; spikes of glowing green stone sticking out from its joints. The creature was moving erratically and snapping its mandibles on something only it could see.

"Warp stone," said Toriel with a heavy voice, "Sometimes it is released into the atmosphere from volcanic eruptions in Area 3."

Warp stone...dangerous substance, mainly used by Skavens in their dark magic and odd technology. The element was rare, but when it appeared in an ecosystem it could cause massive mutation, highly aggressive behavior and even mass extinction. When it did appear, it was one of the few things that could unite the Eight Kings in exterminating warp spawn

Thankfully, the Eight Kings were too tough to be affected by the fell energies. They made short work of any infection they saw. Dangerous as they could be, they were needed for the safety of the Gourmet World.

The Eight were probably the best defense this world had. As it stood, the Sapphire ant would have to be destroyed. Just as it was staring to grow a new head and several new scorpion style stingers, one of Bambina's trusted monkey warriors struck the best with a blow to its multiple hearts.

It was using Enbu, a sort of martial arts practiced by the primates of Area 7. They could often perform it with no issues, though it took time to actually become masters at it. Humans and other sentient species could do it, but it took focus...lots of focus.

Discipline was a common trait among human and monster warriors of Gourmet World. Whether it was Sans Skeleton bending time and space to his will or Geumon going beyond human limits, the Eight Kings had much to teach mortal beings if they were willing to put in the effort.

Sans...a odd case, even for monsters. At first glance, he was a causal, lazy (to the extreme), but friendly and well-meaning guy, always looking out for his younger oddball brother, Papyrus.

...and yet, some would say there was more to him than met eye, his ability to teleport when no one was looking a good example.

Nobody was exactly sure how old Sans was, or why he basically had free run of the most dangerous zones with his teleport abilities.

His brother was an aggressive go-getter, a fine warrior and a terrible cook despite his best efforts.

But it was Sans himself who'd guided Chara and Frisk away from a path of darkness and some believed, from falling into Chaos.

A good man in the end.

Asgore and his team continued their trek, gathering up their ingredients, their Robos making good progress. "You're all doing well today." He noted.

Edea laughed lightly. "Ah, you're too kind."

Asgore smiled, even if the Robo did not show it. "Well, we'll be wrapping up soon, so-" He stopped suddenly when the sensors picked up something...as did the others, and they began to look around. Something...foreign was here.

"What was that?" Edea asked.

Then, they heard distant, but approaching chittering sound.

"Salmonids..." Alternis growled, the fingers of his Robo curling up.

There they came again. Just in time for their 70 year Salmon run. They always turned up at the same time but never in the same place. They were first spotted nearly a thousand years ago in the radioactive waters around Inkopolis. They were first discovered during the middle of a massive Ork invasion and a Yautja Civil war.

At the time nobody suspected they were intelligent, being nothing more than gangly, goofy looking fish who just so happened to walk on land.

But over the course of a thousand years they learned. They learned how to forge technology through brute trial and error. And aided by an astonishing reproductive rate and ferocious warrior culture, they'd thrived in a hostile, deadly universe. And they'd finally come to Gourmet World.

All too many times had small bands of fighter underestimated the fish, due to their weak looking bodies, ramshackle tech, and the fact their main melee weapons were frying pans.

Those overconfident bands almost always wound up dead, poisoned and beaten to melted pulps.

Salmonids had three main ranking. The 'Grunts' were first, individually weak, but came in large numbers and operated as main warriors and engineers.

Next was the 'Boss' rank. Fewer in number, but very powerful, able to use toxic attacks with supreme effect.

The top rank were the 'Golden' Salmonids, which functioned as leaders and had odd powers.

There was a reason many Yautja carried Frying pans with them as trophies. Unlike Skaven, the weakest, smallest of the Salmonids would charge gladly into the jaws of death in order to buy their brethren a killing shot.

The so called Goldie Salmonids were a rare bunch, fearless; they grew faster and more ferocious the more damage they took in a fight. At their most adrenaline buzzed, jacked up they could go toe to toe with a Xenomorph Praetorian.

And now a whole swarms of them was hearing their way. Great.

"Thankfully, these metal bodies are tough," Asgore began explaining. "Though even they can succumb to the poison. Use the head mounted blasters to pick them off at a distance when they come.

The Robos took off, powerful wings churning the air. The onboard weapons powered up and all systems were green. The obvious target for a newbie would have been the wave of Chum, the lowest on the Salmonids Hierarchy. The smelly creatures were roaring with fanatical glee and waving their frying pans.

Instead the Robos targeted the Steelhead protecting the Goldie and opened fire.

Soon, the rest of the Robos opened fire as well, grateful that Zelda and Elco had installed wings on these models. The heads had opened sideways, showing laser guns that would mow down the Grunts.

But then came the Bosses, a Stinger among them. This Boss rode atop of pile of kettles, and was armed with a nozzle that could fire a accurate stream of acid at its foes.

The Robos banked hard to avoid the high stream, showering the jungle in deadly acid that burned through wood as dense as metal and stone formations.

A laser blast detonated the Steelhead's bomb just as it was launching, blasting dozens of chum but only stunning the boss Salmonids

Flyfish hovered about, launching missiles about wildly...

...and one stuck Alternis' Robo, sending it crashing to the ground. The wing unit was damaged, but the main body was finding. Alternis picked himself up, facing down the swarm, and flexed the claws of the Robo. Time to take them head on.

"Right, let's see what you got."

The blade Master of House Lee took his unit in low, vacuuming up golden eggs from the downed Salmonids. If they weren't taken care of, they'd hatch and birth a new generation of Salmonids on the planet in a never ending cycle.

Going for the direct attack, he raised the legs of his metal bird and gouged out the eyes of the Goldie. The creature howled in rage and pain, swinging wildly with a crude sword. It actually picked up the now dead Steelhead and threw the body like a basketball after Alternis's unit.

Alternis managed to parry it, the strong alloy of the body managing to deflect the massive body. Alternis found himself wishing he could be here in person, so he could unleash his full might upon them.

One of the Salmonids, a Drizzler, used an umbrella of all things. The creature hissed and came out from under its seemingly flimsy tool, which had deflected laser fire. From the handle of the Umbrella fired a missile.

"Incoming!" shouted Alternis as the flock of mecha birds soared under a tree canopy. Toxic ink exploded from the missile, showering the area in a deadly poison which the Salmonids would shake off, but could be lethal to even to mid level creatures on Gourmet World.

The fur coating of the Robos began to melt away, protecting the main bodies from the initial assault. But still more were coming.

A hidden missile from a half damaged unit blew the Drizzler to bits and sent its umbrella scattered in pieces.

But that wasn't he main threat, directing the flying Salmonids was a Flyfish; a biomechanical unit that used an inkjet like contraption to fly around. It was releasing missile pods from its device, its fishy eyes full of hate.

"Oh, I can handle this," said Toriel with a grim smile, maneuvering her Robo so the missiles followed her unit.

The Salmonids fell the score soon enough...but they had plenty of bodies. Things even got more intense when a Goldie unleashed a warm of Glowflies onto Edea's unit, which unleashed a chemical scent that stirred the Chum into a frenzy, causing them to rush her at high speeds.

Toriel's unit dive bombed and banked hard, causing the barrage of missiles to strike the Salmonid ground forces; blasting the entire area with fish guts.

The Chum leaped at Edea's unit, jumping on tree branches and grabbing onto synthetic fur and metal hand holds. Edea ground her teeth as she struggled to throw off her unwanted passengers.

So glad pain wasn't part of the feedback, otherwise she'd been feeling this for months. She used the Robo's arms to bash aside the Chums as they came.

The systems on her unit were going critical, but Edea had to make the most of it. Taking a gamble, she flew straight at the Stinger Salmonid. the creature fired a stream of acid, but Edea took it just below that; burning off several chums hanging on.

More than that, due to the angle of flight, the Stinger ended up firing acid at the Goldie; causing the creature to go more berserk than it already was.

The signals it sent out in blind pain and rage caused confusion among the ranks. This made them easy picking for the Robos. And soon, they had the Salmonids on the run.

Salmonids were frenzied, but do enough damage to the boss classes and their discipline would waver. A few of them still tried to attack the Robos, but they lacked the cohesion to land real hits and the flying ones were being torn to pieces.

Their reliance on boss units was their greatest strength and greatest weakness.

And so, all was quiet again. Toxic liquid was across the ground, but the monkeys would tend to that. Time to return the Robos to base with the food they gathered.

And so...

Edea sighed, removing the helmet and remotes used to control the Robo after she had returned it for repairs.

"Well we got the ingredients we were looking for," said Toriel cheerfully, "And we also got some golden Salmonid eggs as a bonus. Not to mention the Eight Kings will be on high alert."

"Still," lamented Braev, "i would rather have no Eight Kings and no Salmonids, or other threats."

"Don't we all." Asgore sighed. "We live in a harsh galaxy, and threats will keep coming no matter what."

"But there's still hope," said Edea, "None of us are standing idle in the face of all this. My old teacher Reinhardt used to say that we shouldn't ask for easier times, but try to be stronger people."

"And the horrors out there have yet to meet an enemy like me," chuckled Chara, still unsettling Ciel a bit.

Creepy, creepy boy.

"Now, now." Toriel said. "Let's not dwell over this. Why don't we all sit down and enjoy some food?"

"We have dessert ready," said Frisk in her usual dry tone. "Ice cream and pie. Please don't drip on the hardwood floor or the carpet."

Butterscotch cinnamon pie, in fact, a Dreemurr specialty. Toriel was the creator of it, and it was loved by all of the House. Edea, armed with a sweet tooth, was partially excited.

Everyone's nerves were running high from the Salmonid incursion on the surface. They all had faith in the Eight Kings, but were unnerved by how little control they had over such beings. At least everyone but Toriel and Asgore were; they'd learned long ago to trust those whose sole interest was the defense of their planet and balance of the ecosystem.

Thankfully, good food and idle chatter managed to ease everyone down from the day.

It felt good that in a galaxy of terror and danger, there was still time and room to have a family dinner. It was nice that there was something worth fighting for, even dying for.

Family, friends, the people...might the fights all worthwhile in the end.


	7. Tribes of Ark

Ned Stark looked at Rooster Cogburn with real anger. "Send Arya to Ark; a dangerous death world full of monsters, dinosaurs and criminals. Is that what you're suggesting?"

Rooster shrugged, "Well, when you put it that way . . ."

"It will be good for her," Volibear interjected, much more confident than Rooster.

Ned Stark glowered at them, trying to muster up some words to shoot them down...but he was too angry to even speak or yell right now. Sending his little girl to such a extreme Death World, where 'Survival of the Fittest' was in full effect here...he did not like that.

"You sent your heir, Robb to Death World Arrakis for a year," said Volibear, "You sent your other son Jon to New Vegas where he returned with nothing but a curable STD from Duke Nukem's whore house."

Rooster laughed at the memory.

The large bear went on, "You have plans to train Rickon on Gourmet World when he's old enough. Sansa might be content as a stateswoman, but Arya will never be content with a political education and nothing more."

Rooster nodded. "Like it or not, kid has a different future, one as a fighter. Training her now would likely be best choice so she can learn fast and grow into a capable fighter."

"Now Rickon likes guns," said Rooster, "What boy doesn't? But first time Arya saw me shooting, she grilled me for firearm discipline, how to maintain a gun and the right way to shoot because holo dramas always lie. Kid has a knack for the nuts and bolts of shooting."

"I want her to defend herself," said Ned, "But sending her to Ark would be a bridge too far. To say nothing of her mother."

Volibear huffed, "Ark is a planet that teaches the value of cooperation; not to mention it's the fief of one of your most trusted allies."

Ned knew that, yes, but still, Windrunner was not one for hand holding. Her task was to see them the World, then let them fend for themselves.

Now that he thought about, wasn't his wife talking to Windrunner now?

"Assuming that I consent to this madness," said Ned, "What makes you think that Catelyn will go along with it?"

Volibear met his lord's eyes, "Sylvanas might have not been a mother, but she has known loss; she once had a family and she knows exactly what concerns and fears haunt your wife and indeed yourself, lord."

Ned flinched, and went silent for a moment. That was indeed correct. The High Elf Windrunner family had been torn apart by madness, death, and war. Hard to say if things could ever be the same again...

Rick Sanchez chose to stroll by, pushing a large cart of spice for sorting, purifying and eventually sale. "I say let her go, Neddy." the man took a long pull on his flask, "If you go as the King's hand, she'll be stuck here with nobody to defend her but Morty; and as much as I love him, the kid is as useless as an asshole with taste buds."

Ned gave Rick a sideways look, Yyou're too drunk to be giving anyone advice,"

"Yeah, but, would ya know it, people listen to me anyways." Rick countered with a smirk.

"For better or worse...or shall I remind you of Silicon Valley?" Volibear deadpanned.

"Aw, geez, is EVERYONE gonna hold that over my head!?" Rick growled. "They didn't listen to me ENOUGH!"

Rooster laughed as he started rolling himself a cigarette on the billiards table. "Sure Rick, just keep telling yourself that. Go do some science, it's what you're good at."

Rick grumbled, but moved on, both to fulfill his duty to Lord Stark and to make sure that Morty had done a good job guarding his moonshine.

"And don't forget, Lord Stark," Said Rooster as he lit his smoke, "Arya is a better shot than Robb was at her age."

All these arguments...it made Ned's head sway. They had some points, yes, but still...for Arya to go out there...

"There's a chance she might not come back," said Ned.

"True," said Volibear, "But would you ever forgive me if I went easy on Robb or Jon during training? Even as a teacher I have my limits. Believe me, my lord; this is universal for all parents."

"And at least she'll have training," Rooster added as he took a sip of stolen moonshine from Rick's distillery. "My old man kicked me out of the house with nothing. You'll give her education and one of them ARK chips what lets a man craft anything."

Ned once again went silent. Deep down, he knew he could not watch over her forever, not the mention that galaxy was a dangerous place...

At the moment, the doors slid open, and Catelyn came in, Windrunner next to her.

The lady of Winterfell was a somber as always. Next to her, Sylvanas had the ease of a predatory snake. "I take it you've heard the same arguments I have," she said to her husband.

Ned nodded, "Mostly likely, Cat, though I wouldn't dare reach a decision without you."

Cat sighed, rubbing her head. "I know it's not easy...but they all made good points. Arya is growing up, and even I can see that the quiet life is...not her."

Ned nodded in grim understanding. "Yes..." He looked up at Windrunner. "Very...well. On the condition Nymeria accompanies her, you have my permission to take Arya to Ark."

Sylvanas bowed, "That is most fair of your, lords. The talent for beast taming will serve Arya well on ARK. There she will learn the most valuable lessons about honor and morality."

"Just see that she has the tools she needs to survive," said Catelyn, not taking her decision lightly.

Sylvanas smiled. "I believe Arya already has that, she just needs to sharpen what she has."

And so...a few minutes, in Arya's quarters...

Arya, resting on her bed with Nymeria, was suddenly brought to attention by a knock on her door.

"Come in." She said as she sat up.

The door slid open, and Rooster walked in. "Pack your bags. You're going places, as is Nymeria."

Arya's first instinct was to panic, "Oh no! Is mother sending me to that all girls's school? Am I being locked away in a nunnery? Did Sylvanas reject me?"

Rooster laughed, "Damn girl, you're as jittery as a jackrabbit. And no on all accounts. You're going to Ark; kill some dinosaurs, blow up someone's base camp, maybe make soup out of a giant turtle."

Arya couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Really?"

"Yeah, took some time, but we managed to convince your parents that this would be for the best in the long run. Pack what you need, then meet us at the docks with Nymeria." Rooster took his leave.

"Hey there, trouble," said Robb with a smirk, entering the room. "We finally convinced mother and father to get rid of you and they're just waiting for payment to come through."

"Oh shut up," said Arya playfully,

"And on that topic," said Jon Snow, coming in after his brother, "I've got something for you."

Robb stepped aside for his half-brother, who produced a bundle for Arya. Unwrapping it, Arya saw to her joy it was a sword, a thin, but sharp looking one.

"Keep it with you." Jon said. "And stick them with the pointy end."

"That's an energy rapier," Robb explained. "It's not as heavy as other swords. but the point will get through the chinks in most armor. It's good for duels or sneaky underhanded tactics,"

"Now Ark is beautiful, " said Jon. "But it's still a death world. And Sylvanas is going to throw everything but the kitchen sink at you."

Arya petted her faithful dire wolf. "I understand."

And indeed she did. In fact, she did not even WANT any special treatment just because she was a noble. Thankfully Windrunner knew and understood this, which, of course, made everything go smoother.

"Am I getting a specimen implant?" Arya asked.

"When you arrive," explained Robb. "Implanting will be tough and painful, your first test; not like joe Jon here was just given a Pip boy on New Vegas."

Jon just glared silently.

"Well, perhaps I should start getting ready." Arya noted, already looking over what resources she should bring. Nothing elaborate, just enough to survive.

Arya knew better than to overpack. Ark had a variety of biomes and there was no telling where she'd be thrown.

Besides her sword, a water purifier would be highly valuable in any environment. She paused to consider a tiny hatchet she could use as a weapon or for crafting.

Better take it. And soon, she and Nymeria were on their way to the docking station.

Windrunner was there, as was the rest of her family, wanting to see her off.

Catelyn was the least sentimental but most sincere, "Come back alive, Arya." She pleaded.

"Remember to uphold your honor," said her father as he hugged her.

Bran nodded. "Take care of yourself."

Rickon simply waved with a smile.

That just left Sansa. Both sisters looked at each other for a bit.

"I'm going to miss you," said Sansa. "I wish you weren't going."

Arya struggles to keep her composure, "it won't be forever. I'll come back just so I can make fun of you and be sisters,"

Sansa could not help but smile at that, with both sisters glad they could part with good and playful words instead of harsh words they would regret if Arya never came back. That would be the worst feeling.

After the hug, Arya and Nymeria boarded the vessel to take them to their destination.

Time to rock.

The ship took off and Arya could look forward to a few years of mayhem and adventure.

Aboard Sylvanas' personal ship, Duke Nukem came to congratulate Arya. "Well kid, you're younger than I was the first time I killed somebody. Just aim for the vital organs on a target and wear protection during sex and you'll be fine. Also you can craft stim berries into steroids when you level up enough."

"Riiiight..." Arya gave him dry look as she sat down on a chair, looking out into the stars as they flew past.

It was then Karthus, an undead warlock and scholar, came in, holding a diamond shaped implant. Windrunner was nearby.

Arya looked at them. "So...that goes into my arm, right?"

"Indeed it does." Karthus replied. "And I must warn you that it will not be...comfortable. The device will merge with your nervous system," the undead scholar explained as medical drones started setting up the sick bay around him. "Please sit in this chair."

Arya complied as he went on.

"Thw Implant, as mentioned, will be inserted into your nervous system. It has a subspace pocket inside which can be used to store a variety of objects. More than that, there is a micro molecular assembler which will allow you to craft weapons and armor depending on practice and your own knowledge of chemistry and physics."

Arya nodded. "Sounds very useful." She noted.

"A necessity in fact." Karthus explained as Arya laid her arm on a rest. "Now, do you wish to be put under...or endure it? Personally, we see those who choose to endure it awake have what it takes to survive, showing their willpower.

Arya thought for a moment, as much as she put on a brave face, she really was scared shitless. "No drugs, no anesthetic. I'll take it as is."

"As a warning, child," said the undead mage, "It will activate every pain receptor in your body at full capacity. But because of it, there is a chance you'll understand the implant better and be able to use it more fluidly."

Arya was about to speak when the old man thrust a metal prong into her arm.

Arya grit her teeth as the process began. Nymeria, though alarmed, did not interfere. As a direwolf, she was intelligent, and knew that Arya was doing this own her own violation.

Windrunner watched as the process began. She could feel Arya's fear. That was good. Fear was vital in this galaxy, as it cautioned one. But it was also vital to proceed despite one's fear. To be a great warrior, and not just a brawler or a hired thug, was to be balanced. And balance was the hardest thing in the universe to achieve.

Arya screamed, tears streaming from her eyes. Sylvanas watched dispassionately, but not uncaring. This would be one of many ordeals in the child's life. She observed the wolf Nymeria lick her master's hand as she thrashed in the medical chair.

All lifesigns were green.

And soon, the implant would be ready. One would wonder if Arya would feel specifically that, or just huge amount of general pain.

Coming too, Arya felt like she was on her period, had been beaten up by twenty guys, and had thousands of knives driven into her skin. It as the shittiest she'd felt in her life, but there was a joy. The mental congratulation of knowing she'd passed her trial by fire.

"How do I look?" she joked as Sylvanas approached her.

"Like you've already been there." Sylvanas had a wolfish grin on her face.

Arya took a look at her arm. The diamond was now part of her body, and would serve her well in the trials to come...and many would.

A Skink suddenly came into the room for an update on their destination.

Arya cringed at the sight of the slinking, reptilian creature. Though it held no malice, Arya always had a phobia of lizards. Biting back her fear, she listened to the Skink Priest.

The bow legged reptile, bowed until its snout nearly touched the floor. "Lady Windrunner," it hissed, its forged tongue flicking out. "We are approaching Ark. Lord Mazdamundi has foreseen your request and will grant you five legions of Saurus Warriors in the next solar rotation."

Windrunner nodded. "Extend my thanks to him." She said as Arya stood up wearily, though she quickly composed herself.

"This is where we get off, eh?" She asked as Nymeria took her place at her side.

"Indeed." The Undead elf nodded as she gestured. "You will take a pod to the drop off point. Once there, you two will be on your own...unless you find a tribe willing to take you in." She gave a mysterious little smirk. "Remember that Ark is about more than killing. You're going to have to learn who to trust and who not to. Because that's life," Sylvanas explained, "If everyone were untrustworthy it would be too easy."

Arya nodded, still not fully comfortable with the idea of teaming up with strangers and putting her life in their hands.

And yet...if she must, she would. She stepped into a pod with Nymeria, letting the doors close in on them as Karthus began the launch procedure.

"Arya...good luck." Windrunner said with a salute, which Arya returned.

The next she knew, the pod left the ship and was heading downwards.

Officially the point of no return.

Her wolf Nymeria whined as the drop pod shook, battered by powerful electrical storms and strong winds in the atmosphere. Arya wasn't feeling much better herself, but she held her direwolf for comfort. Then there was a crash as the pod landed.

The sturdy design, or course, kept them all safe, if a bit shaken...then the pod opened up...

…To show the Island, a section of the Ark. It WAS beautiful to look at. They had landed on a shoreline, and a thick jungle lay ahead of them. Behind them a vast, pristine ocean lay.

Arya had never seen anything like it. It looked like a paradise. Her wolf ran out to stretch her legs. She allowed it, just taking in the ambiance.

That was when Nymeria started growling. Arya looked to her companion, "What is it, girl?"

Thar was when the starving velociraptor came charging out of the underbrush. No, wait...too large for that kind. It was more of a Utahraptor...and it looked hungry.

The huge avian predator made a straight line for Arya, ignoring the wolf. It probably reasoned in its lizard brain that she was the easier meal.

Not that easy, the point of her rapier, needle thrust out. By some luck, the point thrust into the thing's eye and tore it right out. The monster screeched in pain, but Arya knew better than to allow it to use its large claws. Quickly, she used her sword to stab right into its chest, slicing thorough the vitals, just as Nymeria leapt up and tore at the throat of the raptor, blood flowing rapidly.

She had no room to breathe as a giant Megalodon splashed out of the nearby ocean and snapped the Utahraptor in half. Pulling back to the sea, the giant shark vanished as quickly as it arrived; like an orca snapping up seals on the beach.

Arya's heart pounded as Nymeria started to gnaw on the half raptor carcass left over.

 _click_

"Turn around," said a gruff voice as a person cocked a gun behind Arya.

Nymeria growled as Arya's eyes narrowed. She just landed here, and if she was NOT going to die just now. Slowly, she turned around to see who was here.

A man stood there in metal armour. It wasn't very advanced but it was lightweight and could stop anything smaller than a T-rex. He aimed a single action revolver with the longest barrel Arya had ever seen. But his most striking feature was behind a curtain of ginger hair, half of his face was covered in horrific burn scars.

"Drop your sword, cunt; I need your gear more than you do," he barked at her.

Arya glared but moved slowly to drop her sword in the sand. "Get him," she said softly, and her wolf attacked like a coiled viper.

The man had dropped his revolver, but it was within reach. One of his armored gauntlets was wrapped around Nymeria's throat. If he so desired, he could strangle her lifelong friend to death.

He didn't flinch at the sword tip inches away from his face. If anything ,he looked like he was daring Arya to kill him.

"You have to apologize," she growled. "That's my friend you've got there and if you don't want to die, you'll apologize to me and her."

The man on the ground exploded into laughter, unable to believe what was being asked of him.

Arya glared harder as the man caught his breath. "Really now, you dumb cunt! You think you are in any position to-"

"Hey, hey, both of you play nice." A young man with blond hair emerged from the trees, wearing a tank top and shorts.

The man looked friendly enough. Following him was a dark haired man with a huge warhammer over one shoulder. "Listen, girl, you're obviously a decent person; why you're here I don't know. But we kind of need him."

"He's part of our tribe," said the man with the hammer. "He's an asshole and his cooking sucks, but he's good in a fight."

"Yeah, yeah." The scarred man grunted. "Its all I need here in this bloody island." Arya scowled as she backed off, and the scarred man released Nymeria, who growled and shook her body. He stood tall once more, and Arya got a good look on just HOW tall he stood.

For a fleeting second, Arya could have sworn he was familiar. Something about the shape and color of his eyes. But he couldn't remember exactly how the man was familiar. They never took eyes off one another as the man bent down to retrieve his revolver.

The man with the hammer called to them, "You can fight, so you can join us for dinner if you share that raptor."

"I prefer chicken, Gendry," snarled the scarred man. "Not fucking thunder lizard."

Arya looked at what was left of the raptor. She then looked back at the group. She weighed her options. Should she just trust them like that?

...

"Lead the way." She said as last, grabbing the mangled remains.

"Glad to." The blond grinned. "Name's TK is Gendry, and this charmer is the Hound. Or what we call him."

Hound just grumbled. "Don't give me a reason to shoot you." he warned Arya.

"Well, you didn't shoot me," said Arya. "You could have."

"Shut up and help me skin the carcass," Hound snarled as he began to gut the half raptor with a hunting knife.

Arya glared, but decided to help in order to build good rep with this tribe. She could use some help, she knew that much.

Butchering the carcass made her skin crawl, but she hid her feelings from the crew. It also gave her the chance to keep some raptor skin; it could be crafted later into leather, which could then be crafted into useful items.

As tempting as it was to go solo, these guys knew the land, knew the local players; she could benefit from their help. Close to her, Nymeria watched with hard eyes, ready to rip throats out at the slightest provocation.

And so, the group headed back into the thick forest, where they settlement was...small as it was, it was still a place to call home in this dangerous land.

To Arya's surprise, the base camp looked remarkably civilized. A log cabin, large enough for four or more men, a small garden and a tamed dimetrodon standing guard over it all. The mammal like reptile scratched at itself, its sail waving as it did.

"Don't step in the fucking garden," Hound growled as he walked up to the tamed reptile and threw it some kibble.

Arya just took it in, it was all so . . . homely.

"Hey, find someone new?" A voice from the higher areas spoke up. A green Jungle Agori leapt down and examined Arya with curious eyes.

"Oh, yeah, Tarduk." TK explained. "We found her just arrived on the shoreline."

"Did the Hound try to rob you?" asked the Agori. "He does that, but he really wasn't born mean; even if he acts like it."

"Actually he did, and try to kill my wolf," said Arya. "So does your tribe have a name, or are you just going at it?"

"Just going at it now." A blunt female voice caught Arya attention, and tall, large breasted female human stepped out from a small building. She had dark skin and white hair, and she wore revealing clothing and a gauntlet on one of her hands.

"So far, our goals on this planet are to survive," said the woman, "We hunt, we garden, we raid, we avoid being raided and our last base was demolished by someone riding a gigantosaurus with a fortress on its back; so we're planning revenge for that one day."

"I'm sorry," said Arya, "I didn't catch your names. I'm Arry Underfoot to my friends." Arya was not keen on receiving any special treatment right now, so she decided to use an alias for the moment. One day...but not today.

The woman stared at Arya for a moment. "Name's Bullet. I take charge around here. We have a few basic rules around here," said Bullet, crossing her arms. "You pitch in with the chores; that means the boring stuff like chop wood, wash the bed sheets, and scrub the toilet. Two, you get the most dangerous jobs in ambushes at raids at first. Three, you be straight with us and pitch in, and you'll get full membership."

Arya nodded, seeing the crew already get to the daily tasks of life on Ark.

The Green Agori bounced over to her, getting too close for comfort, "We'll be raiding later, but for now, I'm Tarduk, nice to meet you Arry!"

"Nice to meet you as well." Arya said with a small smile.

"Ah, a newcomer!" A blue Water Agori emerged from the house, followed by a brunette woman about TK's age. Revealing clothes adorned the brunette's form, though not as bad as Bullet's.

Arya looked uncomfortable, "I just have to ask, is it mandatory to wear revealing clothes for the women?"

Bullet burst out laughing while the new girl patted Arya on the shoulder, "That's our personal choice. Plenty of the women and men on Ark go nearly nude with big weapons; like Celtic berserkers. Nobody is going to make you go around like Bullet."

"But I'm going to fucking smack you if you don't start chopping firewood," Hound growled, looking up from his crafting of iron ore.

"And to be honest," The brunette continued, ignoring the Hound. "It's just more comfortable due to the warm climate here. Unless we need to go North, where we have to were thick fur clothes."

Arya was relieved that she wouldn't have to dress in beach wear. That was always Sansa's thing. But for now she could test out her implant by borrowing some of Hound's ore and some wood she'd recovered to craft her own axe. Nymeria was growling at the dimetrodon.

"Oh, don't be angry with Potato," said TK. "With luck your wolf and our synapsid will be fast friends."

"Perhaps so," Arya said as she managed to make her own tool. "But it could take some time."

"Ah, I just realized a forgot to give you my name." The brunette suddenly spoke up. "I am Kari Kamiya. TK and I take care of the animals we tame. The Water Agori is Berix. He helps with upkeep and repairs.

Arya turned as Berix waved. "So, it's just you all."

Gendry nodded. "Yeah. We had more...but they all met their ends here. You and Hound are our most recent additions," he went on, "I'm the local blacksmith. That's my main strength."

Hound gave a sardonic grin as he worked to forge new bullets for his gun. "That's sad, but in my time on Ark, I've seen people killing people. in the year before that I saw people killing people. And the year before that and before that as far as I care to remember. As far as I'm concerned, Ark is just like anywhere else."

"True..." Bullet muttered. "But don't forget, the wildlife here, unless properly approached, hates us just as much." She sighed. "A lot of us had lost our lives to wild animals. Sometimes we find their remains, other times...nothing at all. Especially if they go the caves to the sea."

"Big-time danger zones, those places." Berix remarked. "But rich in resources, so sometimes the risk must be taken."

Arya started chopping firewood as soon as her implant finished forging an axe. It wasn't that sharp, but it was sturdy and serviceable and she felt proud. She swung as she observed the group.

"It's all about picking your fights," said Hound. "No matter how big or mean the beast is, if you pick your moment and know when to run, you can take out the throat, the heart or the liver."

"Or we can tame the creatures," said Berix. "We're running low on a few crucial elements and perhaps a raid on a sea cave could be a good initiation for our new recruit. We might not even have to go for the heart, throat or liver."

"I agree with Berix." Bullet noted. "We could use more beasts for use. Taming animals is often the difference between life and death on this world."

"We should look into flyers." Kari said. "It would great us great advantage."

"We've been looking to tame an Argentavis," said Bullet, "Big carrion bird good for cargo hauling. Think you could tame one, short stack?" she asked of Arya.

Arya stared at her for another long time. Bullet found herself impressed by the girl, deep down. Not a meek little thing at all.

"Where do we even find one?" Arya asked.

Bullet, smirking, gestured Arya to follower into the main hut. "Lemme show you the map of the Island." She gestured to the map. "We're here on The Southern Jungle. The bird we're looking for mostly live in the mountains. They're scavengers and very good at finding dead meat. But unlike most scavengers they've got powerful beaks and claws to fight other predators and protect their nests."

"The good thing about them is that unlike most flying dinosaurs," said TK, "Is that they don't usually fly off when they see you. They'll typically try to attack you first."

"And the closest nesting ground for the birds is Red Peak," said Berix, "A dangerous area full of predators."

"So, good chance at death, especially for a newcomer." The Hound said as she strode. His sneer made his face uglier. "Think you and and your pet are up to the job?"

Arya glared at him. "Just give me what I need, and I'll get you your bird."

"You've got your little play sword, you've got your dog," Hound sneered, "We'll get you a crossbow, some kibble and TK can show you how to craft tranquilizer bolts so you don't accidentally kill the oversized chicken."

TK nodded, "You can shoot and dodge it, or you can take advantage of its natural aggression to lead it into a trapping pen."

"Good." Arya said. "So, Red Peak then?"

"Indeed." Bullet said. "Try not to die right now. Taken a liking towards you."

"Hound and I will accompany you," said Berix, "We have some hunting of our own we need to do in that region." He said as he produced his longneck rifle.

"So hurry, girl," said Hound, "You're going to be at the front line, and your worthless life will depend on what you do."

"Then let's get started," said Arya, "I've got the bolts and I can craft the crossbow on the way."

With that in mind, the four headed off towards their destination.

Tarduk, after they were gone, turned towards Bullet. "Something tells me the girl is more that she appears to be."

Bullet considered, sweltering under the tropical sun. "It wouldn't surprise me, there's a lot of criminals, outcasts and social rejects who get dumped on Ark. I got kicked out of my mercenary gig for civilian casualties and it landed me here."

"Yeah," said Tarduk, "But how many criminals have a dire wolf with them?"

"As they only come from the galactic north," said Bullet, "Not many, and even less have a sword of that quality."

"Then...highborn?" Kari asked.

"Could be, but thankfully it was clear she was not looking for any special treatment. She knows as much. This planet doesn't care what rank you are. They want to kill you all the same."

TK sighed as he looked over the hanging Coelacanth meat, preserved for cooking later. "Yeah...Death World for a reason."

"I don't know many highborn who wind up on this world that aren't part of Sylvanas' crew," said Bullet, "Think she could be a knight, or part of a knightly family like Clegane?"

"She just might be," said Tarduk, "But I hope she survives no matter who she is, she's friendly."

"and I have a weakness to fluffy animals like wolves," said Kari.

Bullet just stared out into the horizon. Something told her...things were about to change...

Arya screamed a she thrust her sword through the open mouth of the crocodilian creature. The monster gagged on its own blood, but blindly clawed at her. Nymeria answered by singing her teeth into the monster's scaly throat and ripping it out.

"You scare easy, girl," said Hound, hefting a huge two-handed sword. "That's just a Kaprosuchus, he's just small fry compared to the big sarcos; those will bring down a t-rex."

Arya trembled, "I'm not afraid, I just hate lizards."

"Not actually a lizard..." Berix muttered. "But if you are scared of reptiles, better get used to them fast. Place is a haven for them...and this Island is actually one of the SAFER zones of Ark. And don't forget to scan over a carcass for anything useful," said the Agori, "You never know what you can use now or later as you level up."

At that moment, Hound used his giant sword to chop a Dilophosaur in half, He laughed as the bottom half stood for a few seconds before falling. "Kill those ones quickly, they have a poison spit that blinds you."

"Blinding poison?" Arya asked.

"And then they swarm and gut you." The Hound went on. "That's life here of Ark."

"And once we reach the mountains areas, things are gonna get worse." Berix admitted. "I suggest you have your crossbow ready. Attacking most animals at range is preferable to close combat without a proper sword and armor."

Arya nodded, "I'll do that," she felt foolish. Her father had always taught Robb and Jon that a sword was a backup weapon, unless you had either a shield or good armor. And she had neither. As the group moved on, she saw materials for simple stone bolts; not the most advanced, but they're fly true and hit hard.

Quickly mining some up, she utilized her system to craft some projectiles. "Right, this isn't so hard after all."

"Say, question." Berix began. "Did you put yourself under for the transplant, or did you remain awake?"

"Awake." Arya replied. "Hurt like a bitch."

"Same with myself and Bullet," said the Agori, "In the long run it gave us an initial leveling boost. When you have a bit of time try crafting more advanced items; and I don't mean just weapons."

The group walked, the jungle was starting to give way to hilly terrain covered in redwood trees. Dominating the skyline was the great mountain itself, Red Peak

Arya looked about. She could hear the sounds of various wild animals scattered about. This would be a risky endeavor.

Time to see if she had what it took.

The real test came when a gunshot struck a redwood next to Arya's head. Hound brought up his revolver and Berix brought up his long rifle.

From out of the ferns popped a group of camouflaged men with guns, bows and crossbows. The leader, a bald man looked at the group and laughed. "You're the Hound! What brings you up north?"

"Chickens," Hound said dismissively. Around her, Arya noticed that Nymeria was nowhere to be seen, just like a predator should be.

She and her group immediately went the defensive, ducking behind trees, ready to take them on.

Tribal warfare...another danger of the Island.

Arya put a hand to her ear and took it away red. Her ears were ringing where the gunshot had nicked her earlobe. A bloody but superficial wound. It ignited something in her. She raised her crossbow and like swatting a fly, put a stone bolt between a man's eyes. Elsewhere, a man screamed as Nymeria hamstrung a man.

The Hound brutally gunned down anyone he could, firing off round after round, as did Berix. These punks picked a bad time to mess with them...

...and the smell of blood would soon attract predators.

The bandit leader, Polliver, reloaded his rifle and peeked over cover. "I'm going to kill you both and I'll fuck the little boy you're keeping with you."

Polliver heard a twig snap next to him and turned to shoot, but his long rifle worked against him. Arya thrust a recently crafted dagger in the gaps of his armor. She hissed through her teeth and twisted the knife. She wasn't thinking about her mission, predators or other trivialities. She was high on bloodlust.

Polliver gargled in pain, coughing up blood. Arya gazed was fearsome and predatory. She BELONGED here on this World. A apex predator...or one in the making.

One of Polliver's men saw this, and tried to rush Arya...

...and as such, never saw the Thylacoleo in trees until it had leapt down on him, brutally mauling him.

The sight of a carnivorous marsupial devouingr a man while still alive shook Arya out of her bloodlust. Polliver was down, and a sadistic part of her was keen to leave him to the Terror Bird barreling down at them.

While the ten foot tall predator bird ate Polliver's tasty liver, Arya ran as fast as her short legs could take her, following Hound, Nymeria and Berix through the Redwoods and to the mountains. At least she'd managed to steal a simple flintlock pistol from Polliver. This was moving up in the world of Ark.  
Arya, once out of range of the bloodshed, took a moment to catch her breath.

"Not bad, I must admit." The Hound said with a odd smirk. "Perhaps you do have what it takes out here." Nymeria soon caught up with them, snout coated in blood. She shook herself.

"You can dispatch predators of the two legged kind," said Berix, "But take care of that wound on your ear. Even a small wound can lead to either infection or a predator coming after you."

Arya glanced around, looking to craft some sort of bandage or balm while the group carried on. Both Hound and Berix seemed to have unlimited stamina and were in no mood to wait for her, so she had to craft and keep up.

Thankfully, some nearby herbs and plants seemed to do the job nicely enough, and she quickly patched herself up. Nymeria was close behind.

Soon, a call of large bird of prey could be heard. They were close.

There on a crag in the lower slopes of the mountain was the carcass of a gigantosaurus, a truly massive sauropod dinosaur. Maybe the creature had passed from sickness or old age, but already the scavangers were on it. Half a dozen Argentavis were feasting on the carcass.

"Get to it, girl," said hound, "It won't be long before the body attracts creatures we don't have the weapons to fight."

Arya nodded numbly, then began to descent towards the birds. She began to take a deep breath...and then something came to her. An old phrase about fear. How did it go again? Oh, yes.

"I must not fear." She murmured to herself. "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration." She got closer.

The first bolt in her crossbow was a stone one and it struck one of the giant vulture birds in the head. The creature squawked and opened its wings wide. The ones next to it kept ripping into the carcass, Arya stood up and waved her crossbow at the Argentavis, "Hey!" she shouted as the bird made eye contact with her.

The bird flew in close, aggressively, before landing in front of her. The wings were spread and talons sharp, and it screeched in her face.

Arya simply stood her ground, prompting the Argentavis to do the same.

The two killers simply stared at each other...

The bird snapped at her with its long neck, Arya dodged and thrust a tranquilizer bolt into its neck like a dagger. The bird shrieked and flew back a dozen paces.

The crashing of the underbrush signaled the charging of a Direbear.

Arya's eyes glanced towards it, but Nyemria was on top of the bear already, biting savagely at the beast. Arya turned back to the bird, staring it down once again. The two killers just...stared.

Nymeria was ferocious, but she was at a huge size and strength disadvantage to the large bear. She had to break contact, throwing fresh, harvested deer meat at the vulture like bird as she charged the bear.

She screamed as she drew her rapier and made for the heart.

The bear bellowed, before it stumbled back and collapsed in a heap. Arya whirled back around...only to see the bird had not left.

There would be more predators and scavengers looking to get their cut. But with the bird's keen eyes bearing down on her, she had the idea to slice off a slab of bear meat with her dagger and throw it to the bird. Though if she needed, her flintlock pistol was within easy reach.

The Argentavis now was more wary, instead of aggressive. Testing if Arya was worth of its time.

The bird snapped up the slice of bear meat. Arya knew that this was her best chance, and that the raptor skin saddle she crafted earlier would be coming in handy just now.

She approached the birds and this time, it did not react aggressively. She managed to put the saddle on, and mount it.

The Argentavis turned to look at her, and she stared back...and a sense of 'understanding' could be reached.

Stepping onto the back of the beast and taking the reins wasn't like Robb teaching her to drive a speeder or Jon showing her how to ride a cybernetic horse. She was riding a giant carnivorous bird and she had to make it trust her more than it trusted its own instincts.

"Hop on!" she shouted to her companions, "before the new and old carcasses attracted more trouble."

The stupified Hound and Berix did as they were told, while Nymeria remained on the ground, able to follow perfectly. And soon, they were off.

The bird's giant wings took a beat, then another and then they were off in the blue skies of Ark.

Arya's fear of heights kicked in, only to be replaced by a sense of accomplishment and exhilaration. Even hound's curse filled warnings could hardly shake her from the sense of joy as they climbed higher and higher.

Letting instinct take over, she stir the bird with a grace and precision, while making their way back to base.

Arya grinned ear to ear as the Hound slammed a fist on her shoulder, "Head due south forty five degrees!" he ordered. "That's where our fucking home is!"

"Yes sir!" she said.

A gunshot from the redwood canopy shook her out of her glee and she banked the bird hard right.

"Beware of ground threats!" shouted Berix over the wind.

Arya gritted her teeth. Just how many of these fucking hostile tribes where there? No matter, better keep moving.

Nymeria kept pace easily, her sense of smell keeping her on track.

At home base, Bullet was tending the garden while Tarduk collected fruit growing from the trees. TK reacted with a bow and arrow when he heard the sound of wings beating, an explosive tipped arrow in his notch. His face split into a grin when he saw the missing group members riding the giant bird.

"Well, would you look at that." He mused as they soon landed by the village. Bullet turned, and stared with a smirk at the sight.

The bird landed and the party disembarked, Hound growled, "The short one gibbed some cunts out there."

Bullet laughed, "That's the nicest I've ever heard you talk about someone, Hound."

"So, you mean Polliver?" Tarduk asked.

"Yeah, he's dead." Berix replied. "Torn apart by the Terror Bird that came into our fighting area."

Hound shrugged, "It spared me the effort of snuffing him out with my own hands." From the tone of his voice you'd think he was talking about pulling weeds.

"That was a good raid," said Arya, "When's the next one?"

Bullet grinned. "Eager to get things done. That's good. But for now, take a moment to breathe, look at the maps, not to the mention the dossiers we have, and learn a bit."

The dossiers were a series of documents pertaining to the various life forms of the world. A bit old, but still useful at times.

"Take some time to plant seeds, weed the garden and water it," said Bullet. "Before sundown, read over the documents. Long term, knowledge will keep you alive just as well as guns and bombs."

"For years, biologists and planetolgists have been cataloging the wildlife of this world," said Berix, "Those dossiers hold the various animals habitats, habits, food, mating and migration patterns. Read it like your life depends on it."

"And it will." Kari assured. "Trust us, it will."

Arya nodded as Nymeria took her place at her side. Looks like there were things to be done.

It wasn't long before the sun began to set on Ark and Arya's hands were blistered from labor, her clothes were bloody and her mind was eager for new knowledge. She could hardly believe how much had happened in just a single day.

Outside, Hound stood with a large rifle on his back, scanning the woods for danger with the tribe's new pet.

Nighttime, the time when Bullet made sure no one went on into the lands, unless a dire emergency had occurred. The night was dark and full of terrors...

"Lord, cast your light upon us," is how the chant would go. Hound had no time for gods or goddesses. He hated fire, and the only light he needed was the muzzle flare from his gun.

Like the animal of his namesake, he sniffed and scanned the darkness.

All around was there was the sound of wildlife, chipping, hissing, roaring, calling, and more.

Amongst the most dreaded nocturnal predators was the Megalosaurus. Sluggish by day, at night they became swift and dangerous creatures.

The therapod moved silently, scanning the campground with its keen vision; better than an owl. Its sense of smell gave it perfect stock of the surrounding area, prey and predator. Its powerful jaws would have no problem chewing through even metal armor.

The Hound expected such a monster, but he did not expect Arya to sneak up behind him.

"So, night brings a lot of things out, eh?"

The Hound jumped a little, then turned. "Aye, that it does. After a while, you just come to expect it," he said, reaching into his implant. "You figure out when and where certain predators come; and they always come." he drew an enormous compound bow, notching it with an arrow tipped with a brutal, barbed point.

"We're being hunted," said Arya, cradling her crossbow.

"You catch on quick," said Hound

Arya soon saw it to: A large theropod stalking the outskirts, looking for a easy opening to get in and devour all those within.

"Thinks we're an easy meal." She growled.

Hound drew back his bow, the arrowhead gleaming in the moonlight. "That's his weakness, he thinks we're weak. I never take an enemy for granted,"

Arya brought up her own crossbow, scanning the woods for more predators; here on Ark, there was rarely just one of anything, whether it was edible plants, deadly predators or environmental hazards.

The sounds of the night echoed in her head. It be quote overwhelming at times, listening to it all. Nymeria soon took her place at Ayra's side, fur on end in battle ready.

Hound looked straight ahead at the megalosaurus. His arrow was a special design that was designed to spread out once it had penetrated armor and hide of a target; slashing wider and cutting through the organs of a large animal. Perfect dinosaur killer.

Arya didn't see it, but when Nymeria turned her head, she followed and brought up her crossbow to compensate. There she saw a Troodon about to bite through the lock on the meat-smoking hut.

"I'll handle this." She told the Hound, who nodded as he kept his eye on the Megalosaurus.

Arya and Nymeria approached the Troodon, who turned and hissed at her. It's glowing eyes showed signs of intelligence.

Troodon, one of the most intelligent dinosaurs on record. In another timeline, it could have formed the basis for intelligent life on Earth that was. As it stood now, they were among the most intelligent creatures on Ark, surpassing most mammals.

Lowering her crossbow, Arya raised her hand, keeping eye contact with the bulbous eyed dinosaur. A bit of kibble could go far. If this thing didn't have a pack of its own, then maybe her group could fill that role.

...Would that work on such a intelligent creature, though? Or was something more needed?

"Crafty, isn't it?" Kari up next to Arya suddenly. "Would make a good tame. I've been looking for one for a while. A lot of people tame them by letting them kill a previous tame, but also one of their preferred foods is Direbear. I think you ran into one earlier."

"Um, I did cut some of the meat out..." Arya admitted, wondering if it would be enough.

"Find out," said Kari, "If its pack was killed or it was driven off, it'll be much easier to tame."

Behind them, Hound let loose his arrow with the satisfying sound of a Megalosaurus howling in pain. He expected it to attack in fury...but it turned out he must have made a bigger mark than he thought, because he then heard it stomp away from the area, until he could no longer hear it.

He could follow the blood trail in the morning, no point in rushing into the woods after a wounded animal and getting killed. The group wasn't that desperate for food. Though as it stood, Hound was prepared to fire another arrow at the damn Troodon that Arya was making eyes with.

He never liked those things, though its hunting and tracking skills could make it useful.

The two killers were looking at each other, trying to see some sort of advantage over the others. Hound had noticed, it was impossible not to. Arya seemed to stare down things she wished to tame, as if trying to assert herself over them by battles of will.

It was simple animal rules. The Troodon was a pack hunter, it would punish submission but also reward a pack leader who could locate food and keep the group safe. Unblinkingly, she met its giant, nearly glowing eyes. Next to her, Nameria stepped away, as though reading her master's intentions.

A moment of dead silence... just silence...

Then, the Troodon bowed to Arya, sensing her superior sense and killing intent. She would make a good pack leader.

Hound was disappointed that he would have to wait to kill something, but he couldn't deny the usefulness of the beast. He turned away back to the forest, full of terrors . . . and he was one of them.

Over the skies of Ark, more drop pods fell like meteors to the ground. The world was dangerous, dark, full of terrors, but also inexorably alive and thriving.

It would be interesting to watch where this would go...


	8. Dark Plots

Darkland Station, the base of House Koopa. Designed with a dark castle motif in mind, it resembled a stony fortress, with fire and lava about the area, ruling the power of the base. This is where Bowser did his deeds.

And now, a Zeal ship was heading towards it.

A man in a skull mask watched the main view screen from Darkland Station's security room. Reaper crossed his arms over his chest. "Inform Lord Bowser that Queen Zeal has arrived." he turned and spoke to Sombra. "See to it that the Queen is free of recording devices when she and Lord Bowser are talking."

"Just no trusting people," Sombra chuckled, "But trust me, nothing they say will leave this station."

Reaper nodded grimly, turning back to the monitors. Everyone wanted to be on top, so it was good to be careful.

On board the shuttle, Zeal and her two children were near the front in disembarking, with several others with them.

Plague Knight led the way for Queen Zeal and her children. The robed, bird masked man swung side to side a censer that burned sweet incense into the air. As an expert in virology, chemistry, poison making, Plague Knight also had a surprising background in making perfumes and sweet smells. At a moment's notice, the censer could release deadly poison gas which the Zeal family had been immunized against.

The Queen herself brought up the rear, looking bored and haughty.

Mona, a fellow alchemist, had remained behind at Zeal's station. Shame. Plague Knight really enjoyed her presence...

Sadly Plague Knight never was good at human interaction. As a former combat surgeon, he'd dealt with life and death on a regular basis. As a maker of explosives and poisons, he was no stranger to peril and risk. But at parties, social situations, or a girl he liked he was utterly useless.

And it wasn't just her looks, she was smart and knew more about chemistry and alchemy than he did. To be able to converse with her alone would be incredible. Not that Queen Zeal gave him much time for mingling.

No, Queen Zeal was always plotting and planning...and spicing. A user, she used spice to extend her lifespan and preserve her youthful appearance, perfect for a narcissistic person like her.

The sad thing was, she used to be much kinder person, but the loss of her husband, the harshness of the galaxy, and other factors transformed her into woman people knew of today.

Spice could extend life, but not indefinitely. Queen Zeal truly meant to become immortal, and extend the honor to her children. As it stood, a certain artifact on Aegis Seven, a far away mining world on the edge of Zeal and Koopa space, could be of use

A huge creature, a wolf-like monster, approached the party in the dim halls of the space station. Warwick bowed in animalistic fashion before the Queen. "Welcome to the ancestral home of Lord Bowser," He said, "You are expected in the map room."

Zeal nodded without a word, and she, her children, and Plague Knight made tier way down the halls with Warwick. It was not long before they reached the large map room, equipped with holographic protector. Bowser and his son were there, as were the Koopalings, seven elite Koopas who served as military commanders/scientists/sorcerers.

In addition, Doomfist was nearby, a powerful man with cybernetic arm. A military commander, his calm and polite demeanor hid a brutal fighter. Akande Ogundimu had been his name once. Then he'd gone to war during the Omnic Crisis, earning distinction time and time again on the field of battle. Then the loss of his arm came and with it, Bowser's cybernetecists. Giving him a powerful cybernetic enhancement and the chance to slake his lust for blood.

Doomfist bowed to Zeal and her party. "My lady, Lord Bowser bids you welcome. As it stands, please take to the map for all the local space threats."

Zeal looked upwards at the map, with several markings map on the galaxy area.

Bowser took a breath as he spoke. "Thank you for coming. Things to discuss today. First things are the threats we are facing soon." Bowser pointed at an unassuming world in a section of the galaxy known for mineral extraction. "Mining operations have shut down around Aegis 7 and all local worlds. Crews have been turning up dead or insane, and that's before they turn into murderous undead slaughter machines."

"Yes," said Zeal, "the so called Necromorphs; you know what they say; shoot the limbs."

Bowser scowled, "This is bigger than that."

Zeal raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I think...something is guiding these things." Bowser went on. "Not sure what, but we've been investigating the area...nothing yet, though."

"Though we HAVE been looking into what makes a Necromorph tick." Iggy piped up. "Maybe we can use it to our advantage."

Doomfist spoke up, "I've been overseeing live capture. As many have seen, they have no need for vital organs and can even sense a target with their eyes, ears and noses removed. From what we can tell, they simply collapse and shut down a certain distance from a red marker."

"Don't tell me someone was stupid enough to build one after all the legends say?" said Zeal contemptuously, masking her curiosity.

"Some people are curious like that..." A new voice caused all to turn. Moira, the top scientists of Koopa, stepped into the room. A brilliant individual with a talent for genetic manipulation and alteration, Moira's work was seen as unethical and dangerous by most...but Bowser gave her work, without restraint.

The biotic user bowed to the arrived royalty. "From what we've seen before our research mages went totally mad and needed to be put down, the Red Markers channel immense amounts of Dhar, one of the least understood and malevolent winds of Magic. It does so in such a way that most magic users can't understand it."

"So you have something worth my while, Bowser," said Zeal. "And I think if you scratch my back I can scratch yours."

"Perhaps we can..." Bowser mused,

"Wait." Schala began. "What was that about the mage being-?"

"In other news." Bowser cut in, suddenly holding up a tube holding a baby Metroid. "We've been looking into these guys more...and we've come to the conclusion that they are not bioweapons, but predators." He explained.

"Necromorphs don't need to eat," Moira explained, going back to the undead. "But only because they are the part of a larger whole. When Mazdamundi destroyed the Necromorphs of Tau Voltanis, he actually destroyed something larger than any army of Necromorphs."

"The records say it was huge," said Bowser, "Like a moon."

Zeal huffed, "I know the myths, so why would you be interested in a planet eating moon?"

Bowser, deciding to discuss the Metroids later, put down the tube and spoke. "Maybe we could utilize it, as some sort of weapon."

"You don't have to tell me about the power of necromancy," said Zeal, "I personally own three of the nine books of Nagash." She looked up at the Koopa King, "However, controlling one of the Brethren moons would be a game changer; a magic planet killer of incalculable power. I respect your greed in trying to control one."

"So...?" Bowser began.

"Yes, I believe I can help you with this little affair...but first, do go on about those Metroids." Zeal smirked.

Bowser nodded. "Follow me everyone." He began to lead all gathered towards the laboratory of Moira.

"You actually managed to capture Metroids?" Zeal asked, "Normally they kill everyone who goes after them or they expire in transit. They're almost impossible to sedate and their feeding habits are largely unkown."

"Thank this guy," said Bowser, pointing to a huge, power-armored man holding a shotgun. "I found Doomguy out in lawless space; he needed money and I gave him a job. he also comes in handy when chaos cultists summon demons."

Behind him, Doomguy pressed a button, which shone a light on a large cage.

An Omega Metroid was there...and it reacted angrily at the sudden light. It slammed its bulk against the cage with a hellish screech, causing Schala to jump. Bowser chuckled. "Yeah, it'll do that."

Ludwig came up to the front. "We've been do some research on them, as well as analyzing ancient Chozo texts, and we've found the Chozo designed them to hunt something called 'X'." He shrugged. "No idea what those are."

Zeal's son Janus examined the monster. "That Omega, it doesn't happen to have the gene to become a Queen does it?"

Bowser laughed, "You bet it does, I'd go broke if I had Doomguy go out and get a new one each time they died in testing. But yeah, your highness, these things were designed to be predators; they're not a disease, they're a cure."

"And you think this 'X' could be a disease?" Zeal asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Like we said," Lemmy piped up. "Still working on that." He looked at Zeal. "Say, since we're here, we've wanted to ask. Think we could use some of the Visorak to mutate our Metroids?"

Visorak were a species of large, biomechanical spiders, with seven breeds, serving as part of Zeal's army. The species name translated to 'Stealers of Life', an apt description.

Their venom was known as 'Hordika Venom'. Not a fatal toxin, it was mutative substance that worked both body and mind, transforming victims of it into feral beasts. It was mainly used in the war mounts of Zeal to create even more savage war beasts.

Zeal smirked, "Why Bowser, I'd love to lend you some of my deadly spiders. However in return I want some of your Eridium from the mines on Pandora; not much, just enough to enhance our magic rituals."

Eridium, a strange element from the world Pandora; created by a long dead race and valued as a fuel source. It also had the effect of vastly boosting the powers of the native psychic Sirens. Evidently it would also do the same for House Zeal's battle mages.

"Well as I'd hate to leave you using warp stone, take a share of it," said Bowser, "My people will kick you a percentage."

"Excellent," Zeal crooned as Schala went pale behind her. "Show the world who is strong...that is how I recruited the Tomb Kings."

"Oh?" An amused Bowser crossed his arms.

Zeal smirked. "I traveled to the world Nehekhara to recruit the fabled Tomb Kings into my army. Their leader, Settra, initially proved to be...stubborn. But we agreed on a one-on-one duel with each other. I did not want to get my clothes dirty, so I stripped everything all off to fight."

"You did what now?" Roy deadpanned.

Zeal shrugged, "I was young, I was hot-headed, and I have as little shame as I did now. But I think Settra was angry because in life, pussy was his one weakness and as an undead skeleton warrior, that is the one thing he could never have. So he went in angry, unfocused and I tore him apart."

Schala blushed deeply at her mother's lewd display,

Zeal laughed, "A few of the mortuary priests tried to press their advantage when I overwhelmed Settra, but he came to my aid. And I don't mind being dominated in the bedroom, but in politics and at war, I rule with an iron fist. Everyone else can get behind me or die in the process. Now Settra serves me. Though I was kind enough to let him and his brood keep their gods and practices, as long as they still serve me. Settra kills, maims and terrorizes," Zeal purred, "Why change what works?"

"Well, we might need your undead boyfriend if we are to continue with Live Necromorph capture," said Ludwig. "Mindless skeletons pretty well counters the mass psychosis caused by the markers."

Zeal glared at him, but let the comment slide. "Hmmm, yes. Perhaps he can tame these abominations."

Schala suddenly spoke up. "We have more news to share as well."

"You'll be happy to know, Lord Bowser," said Janus, "That we've managed to acquire a working, living sample of Samus Aran's DNA."

Bowser's eyes widened, "But how?"

Schala answered evenly, "Our Mother has known of your interest in the Metroid's for some time, and it has come to our attention that Samus herself might serve as a bridge to understanding the monsters, given her long history of fighting them."

Bowser rubbed his chin. Samus Aran...one of the greatest bounty hunters in the Galaxy, and that was saying something there.

Raised by the Chozo after being orphaned in a pirate attack, she grew under their care, becoming a skilled fighter and traveler. Few dared to cross her. Thankfully, for the most part, she was a kind person.

He'd tried to get Samus over to his side. Get her to see the reason of controlling and harnessing the metroids. Her beloved Chozo had created the damn things, why not use them? She didn't see reason, so blinded by her hate for these things. She'd tried to destroy all Bowser was working towards.  
So, yeah, not working out.

"We try to make something with this?" Bowser asked.

"In time, yes." Zeal nodded. "First we need more materials."

"In other news," Schala spoke up again. "We have recently colonies planet called 'Altair IV', a world once inhabited by a race known as the 'Krell'. These aliens were highly advanced, having built a vast machine that goes into the very planet."

"Thank my lovely daughter for finding the works of Dr. Edward Morbius and deciphering them," said Zeal. "The man was a loon, but he took risks and it paid off to a degree. He learned the science of the Krell and how they were able to alter reality on a whim and harness magic to a degree unseen in even the Lizardmen."

"If I remember correctly," said Moira, "I thought that Dr. Morbius had died on that planet."

"True," said Janus, "But his notes survived him, even if he and his associates tried to destroy the research. We had to be good detectives about it."

"Not to mentioned...The Krell died too, in single night over 200,000 years ago." Schala added somberly. The notes of Morbius seemed to leave something out...but she did decipher something along the lines of 'Beware the id'.

"Oh the Id," said Zeal, with an unhealthy amount of enthusiasm in her voice. "From what I've been able to understand, it is a reference to the unconscious mind; the thing most of us are never aware of but always depend upon."

"Some scholars theorize," said Janus, "That the Id is both the source of all creativity as well as all depravity and evil. Some theorize it is the source of Chaos magic as well."

"So, you having those weird tech priests look at the machine?" Bowser asked dryly.

Zeal shrugged. "At times when it is needed."

"...Those guys freak me out." Bowser Jr. muttered.

Bowser hit his son across the back of the head. "Don't be afraid of anything! Least of all a bunch of weirdoes in red robes with metal cyber arms."

Bowser Junior winced and nodded at his father's advice.

"Don't be afraid of the Tech Priests," said Schala, "The Brotherhood of Mars might be amoral, but they're predictable and their love of ancient technology is a huge asset to anyone they call an ally."

"If it wasn't for their pompous nature." Janus muttered dryly, knowing too well what those priests could be like...and what they did to themselves.

"And they command giant robots called Titans," said Zeal, "Even one of those can swing a battle on ground or act as the perfect anti-air defense. They don't know how to rebuild them, but they can maintain their Titan war machines just fine."

"Hmm, noted." Bowser stated dryly. "Just like we can't more get Sirens until one dies: Only six can exist at any given time."

"We can have Stephen Strange scour the galaxy for Lilith," said Zeal, "She's been a thorn in my side since she left Pandora. I'll kill her for free as a favor to you, if I find her."

Schala lowered her head, remembering how the woman Lilith had stopped a fire cult from forming on her own homeworld, saving possibly thousands of lives.

"Yeah, she has not been very cooperative...and don't get me started on Steele." Bowser muttered. "She tried to screw me over, trying to take the Vault contents for herself." She snickered. "Too bad for her the contents was some eldritch being, which simply ate her."

The Vaults...once thought to be places of great treasure, now known to be prisons for dangerous beasts.

The Destroyer, that was the thing that lived in the Pandora vault. Something so terrifying and dangerous that the Eridians sacrificed their entire civilization to imprison it. Ancient runes revealed that there were other vaults like it across the galaxy.

The Destroyer was indestructible in its own realm, but needed a host in this universe. This led some scholars to believe that it was some kind of Daedric entity or a Chaos Demon of unspeakable power.

House Zeal and House Koopa stood with the king, but their support was not unconditional. If things went south they needed to look after their own interests.

Metroids could make a fine cure for some of the worst races in the galaxy, like the Tyranids or the Grox. Better yet, analysis of Samus's DNA could lead to the making of better super soldiers, better war beasts for Zeal and better tech for Bowser and his kin.

Which led to the current discussion.

"I'm assuming there are still things left unsaid at the moment." Zeal noted.

"Perhaps, and the same could be said of you. Can I trust you not to blab some things to the King? Including Beaky there?" He pointed to Plague Knight.

Plague Knight shrugged, "I am a trustworthy man."

"Shut up," said Zeal, "But Bowser, you are right. I'm as trustworthy as you are. If we both put our might behind the King, we can all be rich and powerful beyond measure. Why would I screw up a good thing?"

Bowser glared at her, satisfied with her answer, at least she wasn't trying to pretend to be something she was not.

"Yeah, well, some things are better left not known to the King. He keeps his secrets from us, so we some secrets to ourselves as well. I may be willing to share some with you." Bowser noted. "I can share a copy of Red Marker Dark Magic frequency. I know that'll help with your study of necromancy."

"And I'll give you whatever Krell tech I can find." Zeal replied.

"Just watch yourself on the Forbidden Planet," said Bowser, "It's not technically a death world, but you don't want to wake up something from the past."

"Hmmm, true." Zeal nodded, turning to walk and examine some Metroid baby specimens. "What an ugly little thing," she mused. The creature inside began to float around before lunging at the glass.

"At that age they don't have good coordination or killer instinct," said Moira, "But en mass they can overwhelm a human target. It's not until they reach the larva stage that Metroids start to become deadly on their own."

"Say, why don't I show you something we've been working on, drawing off old blueprints we found in ships wreckage." Bowser said. "I'm sure you will be able to make the most of it."

"What do you mean?" Schala asked, turning towards the Koopa.

Ludwig grinned. "It's a little something called the 'Sigma Technology.' The main use is to use the DNA of two different animals to create a powerful hybrid beast."

Zeal's eyes lit up, she bit her lip with barely concealed excitement. "Show me what you can do with this? Back up your words."

Bowser laughed, "Step into the dungeon, we've got a show prepared for you. I know you like a good show."

All gathered began to make their way out of the labs and into the lower depths of the station, also passing by cells full of prisoners, there for various reasons.

"Please, your omnipotence," Kink Van Houten pleaded from one cage as Bowser passed, "Have mercy."

"You'll have mercy when you scrub all the floors in the dungeon!" shouted Bowser Junior.

"The dungeon full of deadly monsters and death traps?" Kirk blanched.

"That's the one," said Bowser Junior. "What about the rest of you mugs?" he addressed the other prisoners.

"Dude, go eat a dick," said Snake Jailbird from his cage.

Schala turned to him. "I WAS wondering where you went." She said.

"Yeah...got a little too carried away." Snake admitted with a sigh. "But I'll be outta here before you all know it."

"Yeah, well, you and others better pipe down." Roy said to them all. "You're all here because your hate our benevolent rule."

"In a couple of seconds, you're going to go up against some of the Sigma Technology's finest creations. And for that we can thank the good Doctor Chanikov," said Bowser Junior. On cue he motioned to Doomfist, who punched a button on his gauntlet.

On the far wall, a large curtain began to lift, showing the fruit of the technology.

In a holding pen was some kind of...thing. Its base form resembled a Crocomire from Zebes, but the head and back legs were that of a Thundertusk, and its red scales were patched with wool.

In another cage with a swimming pool in it, something with a huge turtle shell crawled out. Stick out front the head of an enormous megaladon shark snapped its teeth. At the rear of the creature, a large bombardier beetle abdomen wriggled, holding a cargo of high explosives.

"I want to see it kill something," hissed Zeal.

"Oh shit," said Snake.

Bowser turned to the line of prisoners nearby. Then he turned to a rather fat man in red. "You, Coachman right? Time for you to pay for trying to turn my son into a donkey."

Some said the coachman was a servant of Chaos; he was evil enough for it. He simply shrugged and gave that dimple smile. "Well Bowser, I have no regrets. But we can still work at the old human trafficking business. Skaven pay well for donkey meat."

The two abominations roared, they were hungry.

"Oh, yes. Heard of you." Schala said with uncharacteristic coldness. "Looks like you've got what you deserve here."

Into each of the cages dropped a Wunderwaffe weapon; a radioactive powered energy gun of devestationg power. Kurt and Snake eagerly went for their weapons, while Coachman just crossed his arms, a defiant smirk on his face.

"Now if you survive my Sigma monsters, you'll go free," said Bowser, "Actually I'm lying, you're all going to die."

Kirk scowled. "So, that's it, a weapon and a 'good luck'?"

"I don't recall saying good luck." Bowser smirked.

The Crocomire fusion gave a gargling, watery ululation as its cage door opened. The Shark turtle tank beast climbed out of its pool.

The Prisoner's cages began to open, Snake Jailbird pointing his gun at Bowser, "Let me out or the big turtle gets it!" he demanded.

Snake cried out in pain as a blast from the turtle tank shot his weapon out of his hands. He turned with fear as the two monsters began to advance. Meanwhile, the Coachman held his hands out and started to summon magic from the Warp; the stuff of Chaos.

It formed into a deadly whip, ready to lash the beasts. But the beasts eyes showed no fear at all.

...

Come to think of it, when Janus looked closer at the eyes of the hybrids, he didn't see any details: No pupil, no iris...just blanks white eyes.

Schala gasped as she realized before her brother the implications of the eyes. The whip of chaos energy struck the turtle beast and passed through the shell, cooking its guts, yet the monster didn't even slow down or register any pain. It charged full tilt at the condemned men.

The eyes. A mark of Metroid DNA. Bowser just hadn't fused animals together; the Sigma technology had used Metroid genetic codes as a glue to hold the diverse animal parts together and make them exponentially more powerful than it should be.

The Crocomire creature waddled forward, slowly converging on its prey. Kurt, panicking, fired several laser blasts right in the monster's eyes, but it didn't even flinch. It didn't even look like its eyes took damage.

"Behold!" Moira announced for all to hear, royals, guards, and prisoners. "This is the power of the Sigma Technology! Unstoppable weapons that feel no fear, feel no pain! A products of the greatest minds! They are creatures who will fear neither enemies of flesh, bone, metal, magic or demon might!" she continued, as the turtle tank swung put on a brief speed burst and biting through the Coachman's right leg. "With Sigma, we can make monsters to shame the tyranids!"

Kurt screamed as the Crocomire monster took hold of him and ripped him in two like a doll.

Snake cursed, going for Kurt's dropped weapon.

Snake had no intention of dying today. Even if he failed to kill the things, he would find a way out. He looked over to the Coachman, who was cursing over his lost leg as the turtle beast loomed over him.

Actual worry formed on the Coachman's face. For a man who'd just lost a leg he wasn't looking so bad. Holding his hands out, warp energy began to gather and a portal started to open. The fat, red coated man started to drag himself through as the turtle tank ignored further shadow whips that ravaged its flesh. Even with half its internal organs melted, it wasn't even slowed down.

Snake cried out in pain as the Crocomire thing fired a strand of spiky hair at him like an arrow. Poison numbed the wound, but it only increased Snake's resolve. He sprinted as fast as he could and threw himself at Coachman's portal.

He knew where it could lead...something dangerous...but he took any chance he could to get of of this mess...and as he made his way to the portal, he used the Coachman as a springboard, knocking him flat on his face, and leaping through the portal...just in time, as it closed shortly afterwards due to lost concentration.

Several of the arrow hairs of the Crocomire monster pierced his rotund body, maggots started climbing out of the Coachman's wounds. His leg was now thrashing around, having sprouted teeth and insect legs. It was soon eaten by the turtle monster.

"Disgusting," said Queen Zeal with fascination, "I always wondered if he was really human. I remember stories of him from when my grandmother was a child."

Yes, the Coachmen, as he was so called. A man who came out of nowhere, buidling an amusement park to take little boys there to act rowdy...

...and then they would turn into donkeys for him to sell to various species, notably Skakdi and Skaven.

And now his true form was shown. A hideous, eel-headed beast with a grotesque, bloated torso and malformed gorilla arms. Truly a Daemon of Chaos.

There was something that Queen Zeal had to give Coachman, it was his ability to lie and lie convincingly. As the demon thrashed in front of her, she felt its true malevolence and evil. Even stacked against the Skaven Council of 13 or Bad Blood Predators, he felt disgusting and evil, hungry and endlessly resentful.

As the shark head of the turtle tank started to rip into him, the Coachman's demon body began to crumble and fade. For a moment, Zeal raised her arms and attempted to trap his essence, but that faded into the Warp. It would take him much time and energy to build a new body, one that could survive in real space, far away from Warp or Chaos energy to nourish it.

But by now, his scams had been public, and he would forever be on the run...or at least take a new form to torment others.

A moment of silence passed.

"Aw, man. That demonstration was lame!" Iggy sulked. "Only the lamest one died."

"Well, point stands," said Moira, "The creatures tanked Powerful chaos magic as well as laser weapons that can normally tear through the armor of medium sized tanks and aircraft."

"And don't forget, Snake went into a Chaos portal," said Bowser, "Maybe there's horny chaos spawn on the end of that portal. It could be a happy ending after all!"

"Riiighht." Zeal muttered with an eyeroll. "Just hook me up with this when you can."

"Will do." Bowser said as he looked over the creations. "Heh, with these, we can take on anything, even those damn Hyrule Champions."

"Oh, but they did die once." Zeal pointed out.

"Yeah, but it took some freaking powerful artificial beasts to do so." Bowser replied, referring to the 'Blights'. "And now they are back thanks to cloning, and tougher than ever." He straightened up. "We're just about ready to get into mass production," he said. "Let me know if you want monsters that can fight underwater, in space or against magic users and demons. We've got creatures for all occasions and the catalogue is only growing as Doomguy here gives me more raw materiel to work with."

Zeal looked at the monsters and their white eyes, "It's a good show, I'll have to take you up on the offer. And let me know if you ever need Settra around; he's good at tracking space ships and he'd be perfect to track down Snake if he's still alive."

Bowser nodded. "Aye, that I will." He crossed his arms in thought, always wondering what Zeal was thinking at times like this.

Zeal walked through the testing area, looking to get up close to Bowser's monsters, stomping through the blood and gore as she did.

For her part, Schala felt a great sorrow for the animals that Bowser mutated as well as anger that the Coachman and Snake Jailbird had escaped justice.

She had learned that the galaxy was cold, cruel place...and yet, she still found solace in her bother, her friends at court, and the library at her home station, where she and her brother would spend hours going though tomes.

Maybe there could be a brighter future, that all this was worth something. That there was a warm and glorious future that was worth fighting for. Shy as she may seem, Schala was ready to fight for that better future.


End file.
